#i AM alone in this life because the MOMENT i forgot that life

[yourlovelywriter]

Bewitched by you? (Pt 3)

Finally made a third part.. sorry it’s been a while I had so much stuff to do with my essays and projects. Have mercy🥺🙏

Anyway…. Heh, I have used the one bed trope now..

(Warnings- MOMMY KINK, I forgot the rest ngl.)

——————————————-

“You’re coming with me.”

Lilia’s voice was smooth, matter-of-fact, like she’d already decided for me. I had barely set my bag down when she said it, leaving me standing in the middle of the shop, caught off guard.

I blinked. “Going where?”

She shuffled a deck of cards between her fingers, her rings catching the candlelight. “A client has requested a private session.”

I frowned. “A house call?”

Lilia nodded. “She can’t come to me, so I’m going to her.”

I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms. “And you need me because…?”

She gave me a knowing look. “Because it’s a few hours away, and I don’t feel like driving alone. And because I think you’ll enjoy seeing what I do up close.”

I hesitated. I hadn’t expected to be invited into this part of her life—the side that existed outside of the shop, away from the customers I interacted with on a daily basis.

Lilia must have noticed my pause because she smirked, tilting her head. “Unless you’re scared.”

That did it. I grabbed my bag. “I’m coming.”

The drive stretched long and quiet, the night swallowing the road ahead of us. Trees blurred past in the darkness, the headlights carving a path through the quiet countryside.

Lilia drove like she did everything else—with ease, one hand resting on the wheel, the other occasionally adjusting the radio dial. The soft hum of jazz filled the car, and for a while, neither of us spoke.

Then, after a moment, she glanced at me. “You’re tense.”

I sighed. “I just didn’t expect to be on a road trip with my boss today.”

Her lips twitched. “Is that all I am to you?”

I turned to look at her, but she kept her eyes on the road, her expression unreadable. My stomach twisted unexpectedly, and I decided not to answer.

By midnight we had made it to the hotel.

The small, roadside inn wasn’t much—just a row of rooms with flickering neon signage and a parking lot half-filled with cars. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and rain-soaked pavement.

I adjusted my bag over my shoulder as we stepped inside the lobby, exhaustion settling in. “So, how many rooms did you book?”

Lilia hummed. “One.”

I stopped in my tracks. “One?”

She didn’t slow down. “They were nearly full. We’re lucky we got anything at all.”

I stared at her back as she approached the counter, my brain catching up. “And there was only a single bed?”

She turned slightly, dark eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Would you prefer the floor?”

I sputtered. “No, I just—”

She smirked, pulling the room key off the counter after checking in. “Relax, baby. It’s just a bed.”

Just a bed. Right.

Then why did it suddenly feel like the longest night of my life was about to begin?

The room was small, cozy in the way most hotels were—dimly lit, with beige wallpaper and a window that looked out onto the empty parking lot. And, of course, one bed sitting neatly in the center.

Lilia tossed her bag onto the chair in the corner before toeing off her boots. She didn’t seem bothered at all. Meanwhile, I was standing stiffly by the door, trying to figure out the least awkward way to handle this.

“You can shower first,” Lilia offered as she unbuttoned her blouse’s cuffs, rolling them up to her elbows. “If that helps ease whatever crisis you’re currently having.”

I scowled. “I’m not having a crisis.”

Her lips twitched like she didn’t believe me, but she didn’t push. Instead, she moved to the window, drawing the curtain closed.

I exhaled slowly. I was being ridiculous. It was just one night, one bed. No big deal.

Right?

By the time I came out of the bathroom, steam curling in the air behind me, Lilia had changed into a black satin camisole and loose sleep pants, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders.

I tried not to look. I really tried.

She was sitting up in bed, reading something in the dim lamplight, but as I stepped further into the room, she glanced up. Her gaze flicked over me—barefoot, damp hair, wearing an old T-shirt and shorts that suddenly felt way too casual.

Something unreadable passed through her eyes before she smirked. “See? Not so bad.”

I rolled my eyes and climbed into bed beside her, keeping a very safe distance between us. The mattress dipped slightly, and I felt the warmth of her body, closer than I expected.

She turned off the lamp, plunging us into darkness.

For a while, the only sound was the quiet hum of the heater and the occasional shift of fabric. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, willing myself to relax.

Then—Lilia’s voice, soft in the dark.

“You don’t have to lie so stiffly. I’m not going to bite.”

I swallowed. “I didn’t think you would.”

A pause. Then—playful, teasing: “Unless you want me to.”

My breath caught in my throat.

Silence stretched between us, thick and charged, before she let out a soft chuckle and turned over, facing away from me.

“Goodnight, baby.”

I exhaled slowly, trying to steady my heartbeat.

“Goodnight, Lilia.” I closed my eyes.

And tried very hard to sleep.

——————————

So… Patti nation, how we feeling…

Anyway… hope it was to your guys approval! I tried. But now I’m tired and the bed is callin my name like food does! I bid you good day!

[vegathenorthstar]

i am slightly scared bc this post is getting a surprising amount of traction and also bc i've been thinking about almost exclusively atla for the past twenty-four hours straight and my opinions on this have changed slightly??

i still don't tolerate maiko *slander* bc i disapprove of almost all slander. the exceptions are like if it's against elon musk or something.

and i've always kinda understood basically all criticism of maiko?? like my thoughts on that were like "yeah you're totally right they wouldn't work together but they're super funny so idc." but now i feel like i get the criticism just a little more, like no they really wouldn't work together.

there were two main things ppl said that made me reconsider how i view them. the first was just someone pointing out that in the flashback in zuko alone mai is the one who has a crush on zuko, and he doesn't really have one on her. i think i just kinda forgot that but to me it emphasizes that mai was always more interested in zuko than her was in her. tbf he did seem to enjoy spending time w her in the first half of season 3, and and opened up to her abt how confused he felt and how he wasn't really happy, but it's still pretty clear that she cared about him far more (like... at the end of boiling rock he kinda just goes "oh wow okay" and then promptly forgets about her lol).

the other thing was someone mentioned how a big part of zuko's arc in season 2 was being a beggar, and a refugee, and a customer service worker in ba sing se, and learning to do manual labor and empathize with the common people and that he wasn't innately superior to them, and that shows when he gets back to the fire nation and he's uncomfortable being waited on, and wants to walk to mai's house instead of taking the palanquin. but when mai is trying to cheer him up, she suggests they can order some servants around, or take a palanquin ride "double-time," and making that connection made me be like "ohhhh she really doesn't get him does she?"

ppl talk a lot about her fearing azula coming out of nowhere, but i still don't have a problem w that. i think the idea that mai and ty lee were secretly afraid of azula, to some degree, and that they were trapped in this toxic, controlling friendship that they always felt compelled to play along with and pretend they were having a great time in––and, perhaps, that they did still enjoy azula's company, just not all the time/with reservations, and that they also cared about each other, and both decided to stick around for the other's sake––actually fits kinda perfectly with how they're portrayed throughout the show and is very compelling. (there are certainly plenty of moments where azula treats the two of them awfully, especially ty lee––like when she mocks her for opening up in ember island––and there's that moment in the drill episode where azula tells mai and ty lee to go after katara and sokka, and ty lee is SO insistent that they do it, because azula said so––almost like she's afraid of azula's wrath.)

lowkey now i ship mai and ty lee lmaooo

but i would like to reiterate that i do still like maiko, even though i acknowledge that their ship doesn't work, bc their dynamic is so fricken hilarious to watch. a large part of why i adore "ember island" so much is because of them. it's actually a little insane bc before season 3, i knew they were a thing but could not for the life of me imagine what them interacting would possible look like––i was like "wow this is going to be the worst ship in the universe... they have nothing in common... i genuinely cannot envision them making it through a single conversation on anything remotely interesting ever..."

and then they did interact and it was perfection and every time they were on screen together i was in STITCHES bc they're incredible omg

i also just liked that zuko had someone who was even a little bit in his corner while he was stuck in the fire nation having an existential crisis.

i honestly think they would work equally well as friends? i'm not against the romance, which is why i'll still go "yeah i like maiko," but especially since i do also feel that them in a relationship doesn't work long-term i think i need more maiko friendship/best-friendship––as long as they're interacting with one another, because i NEED more of them so badly. even when they're being dysfunctional/acting cruel towards each other, i'm just like "omg peak comedy. also. pookies :D"

(i also said in a post last week that they give me gay-best-friends vibes, and i still stand by that. and yes, i do also ship zutara... pls don't ask me how that works i don't know okay it's all just ~vibes~. idk maybe everyone is bi or something. i am kinda sorta genuinely convinced mai is a lesbian tho)

so. in conclusion i guess. my stance on maiko has recently landed firmly on the side of they do not work together, romantically. but i still love them bc they're silly and toxic and stupid and very very dear to me. but i don't really ship them and i like zutara far more. but if you do ship them i'm fine w that! but maybe. i just see them as friends? and also i ship mai w ty lee (... do they have a ship name) as of like ten minutes ago?? but maiko romance doesn't bother me! i kinda like it! sometimes!

in conclusion take two. maiko (romantic or platonic) are Peak

do NOT slander maiko in my presence they r so dear to me

[sunoflegend]

//share the tea sis how does spotlight megatron affects you?

IT'S SO FUCKING BAD IN THERE DUDE IT GETS SO BAD IN SPOTLIGHT MEGATRON IT MAKES SO SICK . Okay for context Megatron was temporarily dead (or out of commission. either way his ass was gone ) and shockwave was like. making him a new body. and in the meantime starscream was leading the cons, which in theory sounds great for her, right? NO megatron had made her such a joke over the years by treating her as unserious and beating the shit out of her in front of them that they all lost respect for her, so literally NONE of them listen to her and just. since they're stranded on an asteroid, they start eating each other for energon. very fun stuff.

anyways thats the context in spotlight megatron its about when he comes back after this and dude its so fucking bad for starscream it makes me sick the entire issue is megatron just being fucking horrible to her. literally for starscreams end of things it started with her being depressed as fuck in the main room and megatron being a little bitch and she's like "i know you're here to beat the shit out of me and mock me just get on with it" and she LITERALLY GRABS HIS ARM CANON AND POINTS IT AT HER LIKE JUST DO IT I KNOW YOU WILL. And all Megatron is thinking is "oh she's already depressed this isn't gonna be fun at all :/" LIKE HELLO WHAT THE FUCK MAN. AND PROCEEDS TO JUST VERBALLY BERATE HER. FOLLOWED BY THIS PANEL LIKE CAN I FUCKING HELP YOU

Like it's just so fucking bad he's literally trying to gode her into fighting him back or saying something nasty or anything cause he doesn't think it's fun when she's just miserable like hello !!!! and she's so miserable that she's just like at this point i fucking hope you do kill me. and he's like oh well if you really wanted to die you would've fought back what you CLEARLY want is punishment so let me beat the shit out of you. and I use this part in my pinned graphic but eaugaugehaahgahgah i'm ill im ill im sick

and of course at the end of all this fucking shit he's like you're welcome and you can work on repaying me for teaching you this valuable lesson. i'm punching a wall the entire issues so fucked up it's just a mental saw trap for starscream from megatron that ends in her getting beat an inch from her life. yay!! so fun!!!!!

[kaysungshine]

Redamancy: Part II ['red-a-man-sE] noun ;a love returned in full

(If you haven't read part one, you definitely should!)

{ Pairing } - idol!bangchan x staff!afab.reader (bestie!jisung)

{ Genre } - NSFW; s/a/f trifecta, now friends to enemies to lovers, pining

{ Synopsis } - Things are awkward now, you're avoiding each other. In fact you distanced yourself from the entire group. What happens when Ji confronts you? What happens when Chan does a 180 and tries to befriend you? And what happens when Chan finally has you alone in his room?

{ WC } - 14.3k (I am so sorry 🥺) + 2 screenshots

{ Warnings & Tags } - 18+ MDNI, lowkey POV switch , lots and lots of angst, eventual smut & fluff, swearing, use of babygirl, multiple nicknames for members, choking, drinking, bestie jisung crying, hyunjin being a logical romantic, y/n being a little toxic but learning from it, they're honestly both a lotta stupid, oral(f. receiving), dry humping, hickeys and bruising, questionable breath play (please research if you plan on doing this, do it safely), chans nipples are sensitive, he's just sensitive in general with y/n, fingering, needy chan, members teasing, talk of edging, talk of bdsm, these two are VOCAL as hell, so lots of moaning, groaning, whining, whimpering, mewling, and dirty talk during sex, unprotected sex (piv), pull out method (again don't do this, practise safe sex), much cringe, much awkward, but they overcome it (LMK if I forgot any, I'm sorry)

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated or depicting the actual life of the members of SKZ. It is a fictional piece of work, and I do not own Stray Kids. All works of fiction are loosely inspired by SKZ, and in no way am I saying it is true to their character.

{ A/N } - Alright almost a month later, and I finally finished part two!! Please don't hate meeee, I beg your forgiveness, please. It took me a while because I just couldn't stop writing and adding things. Editing also took FOREVER, because I wasn't confident that it would satisfy you guys. I'm still not sure. So I apologize if this didn't live up to your expectations, again, please be gentle with me ♡. Understand that this is only my 2nd SKZ fic, so I'm still learning about how to portray each character, and how to piece things together seamlessly!

Chan was starting to worry. It had been almost two weeks and he still hadn't seen you, nor heard from you. It wasn't like you two really spoke outside of questioning the other about Jisungs' whereabouts. There were the occasional texts, again about Jisung. He didn't know what to say to you to begin with. Apologize? He already did that, and it only seemed to make you more upset. But that was in the moment, and both your emotions were on overdrive. 

The other members were starting to notice your absence, questioning Han about it. Asking if you were okay. You'd even started avoiding all the public areas at the building. No one was even sure if you were eating during the day, or there at all. You didn't go to the cafeteria, break rooms, or practise rooms. No one caught you in the lounge areas, elevator, or the stairwell. No one even saw you coming into or leaving the building. It was to the point where Hyunjin was nearly planning steakout missions with Jisung. And poor Ji. He only got to see you twice since that night. A drastic decrease in comparison to how often he usually spends time with you. Chan only knew that because he overheard him talking to Minho about it. That was all he heard before Han noticed him standing there, and left for his room, sending him a spine chilling glare along the way. 

And Chan knew it really was all his fault when Minho just gave him a curiously sad look, and patted him on the shoulder. You obviously said something to Han, who said something to Minho. He wonders who else knows how bad he messed up. 

He was racking his brain trying to figure out how to fix this. Never in a million years had he thought he'd actually get a chance to experience such a quintessential moment with you. He'd liked you for so long, it was starting to turn into more than that. Ever since he'd seen you helping a new trainee navigate the building, he grew interested in your kind heart first and foremost. He's sure he's been through all the emotions. Excitement, because you started hanging around with them and you fell right into the dynamic so easily. Anxiety, because he didn't know how to approach you at first. Jealousy, when Han got all of the attention from you. Anger, when he thought you and Han started dating secretly. Embarrassment, when he realized how wrong he was. Hope, when you two shared a hug, even though it was a very awkward hug. Despondent, when he still couldn't figure out how to act around you, letting whatever growing friendship you two had begun, stall. And now regretful. But not regret for kissing you, touching you, or nearly fucking you. No, regret that he had stopped. 

Such a beautiful moment, where he was truly lost in bliss. And he halted it. He let his anxiety get to him, his internal conflict wouldn't shut up.

He truly was worried about the technicality of it all. The rules, the company, the media, the fans. Worst of all, you would receive the brunt of it. He didn't know how to protect you from it all. He was constantly going back and forth in his head. How could he make it work? Would you even want to make it work? Did you even like him? What did you think about him exactly? 

He wasn't blind. Every once in a while he'd catch your eyes on him for a little too long. Any 'accidental' physical contact you had with him would linger. And he knew there was a certain smile you'd reserved just for him. Not to mention, you were always the first to reach out directly, and make conversation with him. He was always too afraid to. He felt like a coward. And when he finally had the courage to make a move, a bold move, a ravenous move... His ego suddenly deflated when he realized his actions could be taken the wrong way.

He panicked.

He doesn't want you to think that he just wants sex from you. That you're just a fling. A one night stand. A hookup. No he wanted to do it the right way. He wanted to take you on a date, he wanted to learn more about you, to meet your friends. He wanted you to meet his family, to meet Berry. He even fantasized about planning a special date to ask you to be his girlfriend. He fantasized about anniversaries, about holidays spent together, a life spent together. He wanted to give you the world. He fell for you hard. And in that moment, he felt like he was doing it all backwards. So he stopped. It nearly killed him, but he stopped. And he should've done anything, quite literally anything else but stop.

When he saw the spark in your eyes dimming, only to be replaced with apprehension. He immediately apologized, and spat out a quick blurb about being inappropriate. 

Your entire face just sunk, and he shut down. There was nothing more he could say about it, not in that moment. And he felt even worse when you said you understood, but he didn't let it show. You didn't understand, not really. There was no way in hell you could, and he desperately wanted to just spill everything that second. But he wanted to be sober, wanted you to be sober, so instead he told you to drink water. And go to bed. 

What the hell was wrong with him. 

He even made sure to wake up early the next morning, anticipating to somehow get the chance to talk to you. When you came running down the hall, he was sure that it was fate. The chance that you two had alone time this early was perfect. He had hoped that this would all be sorted out. If he confessed, maybe you would too. Then he could explain last night, and you two could talk about it. And if it didn't work out like that, at the very least he could try to preserve your friendship. It would be painful to remain just friends, but he didn't want you out of his life. He couldn't imagine that. He doesn’t think he could handle that. After he greeted you, he noticed your eyes had tears in them. You were starting to hyperventilate, and tremble. 

Then you were leaving. 

Even though he's come up with world class lyrics, he seemed to be failing with his words lately. He didn't ask if you were okay, or what was wrong, or breach the topic that was clearly needing clarification. No, instead, he followed up with asking if you wanted breakfast. 

You didn't even look at him. The tone of your voice was glacial, freezing him right to the spot. He'd never heard you sound like that. He just stood there, watching the door close. Listening to your car start, listening to you drive off. And then he stood there more, afraid to move. 

When Jisung came running out 15 minutes later, he was still standing there. Han saw your things were gone, and knew that you left. Chan only decided to move when Han uttered five angry words to him. 

'You really fucked up, Chan.'

He knew he did. And he didn't know where to begin to fix it...

"--Channie-hyung!" 

He whipped his head up, and found Jeongin snapping his fingers in front of face, trying to get his attention. 

They'd been at dance practice, taking a break. He only then realized that he'd zoned out the entire time, not eating, not grabbing water, not even sitting down. Just recounting his mistakes, and dwelling on them. Now it was time to get back to work. 

Jeongin was giving him a strange look, but he didn't dare question him. In addition to messing things up with you, he'd been too on edge. Snapping at one too many people. He didn't want to risk Chan blowing up on him next.

"Where's Hannie and Hyune?" Chan questions.

"Probably still in the cafeteria..." Minho responds, giving him a knowing look. 

Minho was the one keeping both him and Han in check at the moment. He felt bad for forcing him into a position like that, considering he was Chan's younger member. Even if it's just one year. Having to be a mediator daily between his two brothers, he knew it must've taken a toll on him. But he never complained, and Chan was grateful nonetheless. 

Chan nodded, and went to grab water from his bag. As he was chugging it, Jisung came into the room and went straight to Minho. Furiously whispering at him, pushing his hair back. Hyunjin trailed in not long after, his eyes darted to Chan, but looked away quickly. 

"What's going on?" Seungmin asked.

Minho just put his hand up to him, and the younger one scoffed. He turned to Felix, "The hyungs are acting fucking weird lately." 

Felix hummed in agreement, as he continued massaging Changbin. 

"Aye, I don't know what's going on either, don't group me in." Changbin grunted.

Chan hesitantly approached the bickering pair, and the look Minho now gave him was one of warning. But it was too late. 

"It's all your fault." Han spat at him. 

"Excuse me?" He bit back, not expecting such an outburst from him.

Hyunjin quickly jumped up to try and get between them and explain, "We saw y/n in the cafeteria toda-"

"She isn't coming over this weekend again. And she's not letting me over to hers either. She wants to be alone. I wonder why." Han interrupts, crossing his arms.

The room was eerily quiet. Everyone knew something was up, that much was obvious. The fact that Han was slightly vague though, it gives Chan the idea that the exact details remain relatively private. 

"Is she still here?" Chan whispers through clenched teeth, holding fierce eye contact with Han, but he's getting more daring.

"She's about to leave. YOU," Han pointed to Chan, poking his finger right into his chest, "need to figure your shit out, and stop playing around. Fix. It."

"HAN JISUNG." Minho yells sternly, "You need to stop being so disrespectful. No matter the situation, remember who you're talking to. Let's take a walk." 

He drags Han out of the room, and down the hall.

Chan was left standing there, ears burning and fists trembling at his sides. It was safe to say practice was done early for the day. So he quickly dismissed everyone, and was the first to leave.

He found himself searching for you throughout the building, with no luck. Until the elevator doors opened, he stepped on with his head hung down. So consumed in his own thoughts again, he didn't realize the other person at first. 

When he lifted his head to finally greet them, he was faced with you. You refused to even look at his way, choosing to face straight forward at the exit. 

"Y/n..." He managed to croak out, weakly. 

Silence, still. As soon as the doors opened, you rushed out. He was stuck standing there again. 

It was early Friday night, and you were already wrapped in the blankets on your bed. Aimlessly scrolling and tapping on tiktok, not even really paying attention to any of the videos. 

You weren't used to spending this much time alone, not anymore. You wanted to go see the people who you realized felt like home to you, especially in this foreign country. But you didn't want to deal with the fallout of the oldest. Jiji did beg to come over... You'd been missing him so much. You'd been missing everyone so much, even your co-workers.

Most of the work you do can be done from home, on your personal pc or work laptop. The majority of your co-workers had periods of time where they wouldn't set foot into the building for weeks at a time. You knew it wouldn't be weird to them if you worked from home for a while. So you've been opting to do that, only going into the building if you absolutely needed to.

Until today that is. At nearly 4 in the morning you were cc'd on multiple emails. The constant dinging woke you up. There was a huge issue with a group's new M/V. Footage was corrupted, drafts were deleted, and it had already passed the deadline. They needed all hands on deck. You were in such a rush to come in, you didn't bring any food or drinks with you. You had arrived about an hour after receiving the email, so by the time afternoon rolled around, you needed to get something in your system. Thankfully the major issues had been solved, but now came the fine tuning. You could finish up at home, but truthfully you missed being out and about. Even if it was just at work.

You reluctantly made your way down to the cafeteria, thinking you'd be safe because you know SKZ's schedule for today. You knew they'd be in dance practice. Oh how surprised you were when Jisung nearly tackled you to the ground. He was on you as soon as you came down the stairs to the main level. Your heart hurts when you see the glossy look in his eyes, paired with sadness. Hyunjin was right next to him, trying to pry him off of you and avoid a scene. Instead you pulled him into a group hug, which he eventually accepted, wrapping his arms around the both of you. 

They both badgered you with questions. Asking where you'd been, what happened, if you were mad at them. You were honest with them, and nearly broke down again. You weren't okay. You were hurt, and angry. But you assured them that you weren't angry with any of them, besides one obviously. And even though Jiji didn't bring up Chan exactly, or that night, you did. You started ranting about how stupid you felt for what happened. You've been holding it all in for the longest time, the words were rolling off your tongue effortlessly. 

You could see that at first, Hyunjin was a little shocked and confused. Possibly embarrassed judging by his pink tinted cheeks. But he held your other hand, that Ji wasn't holding, supporting you either way. You couldn't begin to express your appreciation. You'd half expected all the members to know exactly what happened. You also figured they'd side with Chan, and be upset at you for cutting off all contact basically. Considering Hyunjin didn't know what happened, you knew that wasn't the case. Relief washed over you slightly. 

It would be better if less people knew, less people to pick sides. In the grand scheme of things, this was only really between two people. There was no need to involve anyone else directly. On top of that, you'd never ask any of them to pick your side, not only because you know where you'd stand compared to their leader. You also wanted to avoid negative drama, and any arguments that might start with them.

Jisung begged you to come over tonight. Said that they would figure it out, that he would take you to his room even. He tried to make you laugh saying he'd even hang a sign saying 'no Chan's allowed' on his door. But you refused, not wanting to create uneasy tension, or make anyone feel uncomfortable in their own home. 

He then offered to come over and have a night just the two of you, and as tempting as it was, you found yourself wanting to be alone. Your go to method for self soothing was always solitude, even if it wasn't always healthy. 

You could see him deflating the more you denied his offers to spend time together. The anxiety was growing in his eyes. Knowing him, he was fearing that this was the end of your friendship. That simply could never happen.

'Give me just a few more days, and I'll be over it all. I'll be back to normal.'

That's what you told him, but you didn't even know if that was true. Regardless, you refused to lose your best friend over a situation like this.

One thing's for sure, you need to stop isolating. It wasn't helping as much as you convinced yourself it would. Just as you were debating texting Ji that you changed your mind, and to come over. Your phone chimed, and it was Jiji, he texted you first.

You threw the blankets off, opting to keep on your pajama shorts instead of changing. You slid a hoodie on over your cami though, because you refused to put a bra on. 

They're your friends and you know they'd never judge you or your home. Still you tidied up the take out containers, cups, and cans left in your kitchen and living room. You folded your throw blankets, and fluffed up the pillows on your couch. You quickly picked up the clothes strewn across your apartment, and threw them into your room. You'd deal with the laundry later. Lastly, you went to take the garbage out, and as you turned to go back inside, a car drove up and Ji hopped out. He was in a hoodie, with the hood pulled up. He also wore sunglasses, and a black mask. 

"Y/nie!" Ji said and ran up to hug you.

"Long time no see." You joke, wrapping your arms around him. 

Hyunjin was also semi disguising himself, also in a hoodie. He had a baseball cap on, with his hood also up. He covered his eyes with the visor, and wore a black mask as well. He sent off the driver with a thank you and wave.

"Don't tease. It's been an excruciating amount of time. I need to recharge." He said squeezing you tighter.

"Hey y/n." Hyunjin walked up next, carrying bags full of goodies. 

"Hey! Come on, give me those, let's get inside." 

After you lead them in, you guys get comfy in the living room. They brought drinks, and loads of snacks and candy. In no time, you fell into that familiar and comfortable groove of your usual weekend shenanigans. Just a smaller circle this time.

"So," Ji started with his cheeks full of cheesecake, "I got in trouble with Minho." 

"How?!" You giggled. 

"I think Minho saved you actually, the way Chan was looking at you? He needed to get you out of there, you were NOT giving it up." Hyune said. 

"Wait, what happened?" You sat up more, worried now. 

"Tchh, he wouldn't have laid a finger on me." He tried to act confidently, but the way he rubbed his hands together told a different story.

"You guys fought?!" You gasped.

When Ji said nothing, and avoided your eyes, Hyune decided to speak up.

"They've been fighting. Mostly silently. You know, avoiding each other, sending the other looks and glares. But some days Hannie can't keep his mouth shut."

You gave Ji a stern look, and he just swallowed his cake.

"Anyways," Ji said, clearly trying to get the subject off of Chan, "Minho was so angry with me. I got scolded so much, I nearly cried."

"Well, yelling at Chan in front of the entire group probably wasn't the smartest thing to do..." Hyune mumbled.

Suddenly, concern washed over you. Surprisingly for Chan. You couldn't help it when the words just slipped out.

"So... how is Chan?" You attempted to sound nonchalant, stuffing your mouth with a brownie immediately afterwards.

They were both staring at you, unsure of how to answer. 

"He's... tense. I get something clearly happened between you two, but I don't know exactly what's up. He seems angry, and lashes out at people verbally... But he's sad too, he's been attempting to hide away from everyone too." Hyune says. 

"He has no reason to be angry." Ji snaps.

"Ji..." You say, "You should stop being so hostile to him. He didn't do anything to you..." 

Damn that soft spot in your heart, even when you've been completely devastated by him, you're sitting here defending him. 

He gave you the stern look now, "No. But he did something to hurt you. He's acting like a god damn fuck boy, and I always knew him to be better than that. I've never seen you like this! He made you stop visiting us, you even stopped talking to me throughout the day. He created a divide. And I'm sorry to be selfish, but whether or not it was done to me, it still affected me too!"

The anguish in his voice shot through your chest, creating that god awful sinking feeling. He was right, but still... it wasn't only Chan that held the blame. You were guilty of your own actions. You never should've pushed any of them away, especially Hanji.

"Okay, I have to ask. What the hell happened, it seems like he did something really bad." Hyunjin finally asked, worry written all over his face.

Ji refused to look up from his cheesecake, he was now just mashing it up angrily on his plate. 

"I like Chan." You blurted out, "Well, I liked him. I still like him? I'm trying to get over him though. But it's proving to be more difficult than I thought, so maybe it's more than me just having a crush. I don't know. It feels ridiculous to have such big emotions towards him, considering we struggle to even hold a conversation. I know nothing substantial about him, and I'm sure it's vice-versa. But the last time I was over... We ended up... halfway hooking up in the hall? But he stopped. And he looked at me like I was crazy. Like he forgot who I was, and like... like he was disgusted that it was me he was touching." You started rambling now. 

"And I mean I get it. I'm me, nothing special. We were drunk, and I'm sure with the way we were feeling, it could've just been chalked up to hormones on overdrive. But... I really thought he was reciprocating my feelings. I feel so stupid, to put that much value into sex. It's just sex. And it didn't even happen! I don't know. It just hurt, it still hurts. The regret in his eyes, that stung so bad. Because I didn't regret it, fuck, I don't regret it... I'm just so angry. I can't seem to move on from this."

They both sat listening to you, as tears began to well in your eyes. Ji pulled you into him, your head resting on his chest. Your arm rested on top of his stomach, the other sliding between his back and the couch. He was carding his fingers through your hair, and scratching your scalp lightly, like he knew you liked.

"Stop talking down on yourself. I don't like seeing you tear yourself down with lies." Ji mumbled.

"I'm sorry you're going through this... Have you two... talked at all?" Hyunjin asked.

"No. I'm trying to avoid that. I already got my heart ripped out once, I don't want to go through it again." You nearly sobbed, thinking back to how he approached you in the elevator. All he said was your name, but his voice was filled with such strong emotions that you couldn't decipher. You'd just assumed it was still regret, and ran out of there as fast as you could. 

Hyunjin rubbed your knee comfortingly, "But maybe talking would help... I'm not trying to make excuses for him. He should've spoken up at that point, offered some sort of explanation or reassurance, something. That's on him for not opening his mouth, you'd obviously be confused about the whole thing. I don't know if you're interested in fixing things and talking it out, or even remaining friends with him. Regardless, I feel like some sort of closure would help you and help him. And unfortunately that does involve talking it out."

You nodded your head, "It probably would, but I don't feel like I'm ready. You didn't see his eyes. I can't handle it if he looks at me like that again." You whispered the next sentence, "I don't want anyone to look at me that way again. "

"I don't think Chan would ever be disgusted by you, I mean judging by the looks some of us have caught him giving you. He definitely finds you attractive, as he should." He smirked, making you give a breathy laugh through the tears, "Frankly, I'm shocked that you were even interested in him. I mean have you seen me?" He gestured to his face dramatically, turning from side to side and gave a few poses.

You and Ji both chuckled at him.

 "Or Felix? Even Innie lately is growing more into his features! Why not one of us?!" He nudged your leg with a laugh.

"HEY! If anyone gets to date my Jagi, it's obviously me. We'll be two hot, married best friends who suffer in abstinence, because we can't bring ourselves to consummate the marriage." Ji suddenly slurs, holding onto you tighter. 

Yeah, he was a little too quiet there for too long, the alcohol must've hit him.

You burst out laughing, and shove him away from you, "Gross Jiji!" 

"And thank you Hyune, but I feel like that can't be true. Even if he has checked me out, that's superficial. I mean we're human, we can feel a basic level of attraction to someone we see for only 2 seconds, and never get to see them again. When I say I like him, it's more than just a physical relationship. I know it's illogical, for so many reasons. Like I said, I barely even know him. There's been no attempt to even get on the same level, like how I know the rest of you. We barely talked, we had that huge argument, and he's always kept some distance from me... there's always been a detachment. So for me to want to be with him, even after all the signs of him wanting nothing to do with me? It's insane. He could never want that, could never want me. Not beyond a quick fuck apparently. And he couldn't even go through with that..."

You know you're starting to sound repetitive and bitter, and a little pathetic. But damn it, this hurts. And these thoughts were consuming your mind in a vicious continual cycle. 

Hyunjin just hummed, neither agreeing or disagreeing, "You know you can't help emotions y/n, they're borderline instinctual. Especially love, and I'm not saying you're in love with him, but to care for someone? That passion? It's got to count for some kind of love. It's such a powerful feeling, we have no control over it, it's humorlessly funny like that." 

You were listening to him talk intently, he was so poetic. Maybe it was the fact you were a little tipsy, but you were thinking that he should write more songs. More love songs specifically. 

"If we could control it, there'd be much less heartbreak in the world I think. Unrequited love wouldn't exist... With that in mind though, there'd be a lot less love overall. I mean think about it, love almost always comes with some sort of eventual pain. There'd be many people who'd just opt out altogether..." He paused for a moment before continuing, "And never discount things as impossible, everything is possible. I'm not saying this to try to give you hope or destroy your hope. I'm not saying this to persuade you either. I'm just saying sometimes things aren't so black and white. Grey exists too, and it's a pretty beautiful shade if you ask me. I think you should talk to him about it." He finished

You nodded and offered a smile, "Maybe I should, and thank you."

You gestured for him to join you and Ji on the couch, and he rested against you. His head on your shoulder, creating a momentary cuddle pile, with you sandwiched in the middle.

You were so grateful to these boys, helping to piece you back together when you felt so broken. And over something seemingly insignificant to most. Ji was physically comforting you, and Hyune was comforting you mentally and emotionally. He just seemed to understand the world on a different level, able to see perspectives that might not always be clear to most. His mind was a beautiful place, and you felt honored that he let you in. You both formed a special bond tonight, similar yet completely different to you and Ji.

And, oh Ji... he wasn't getting off scot free.

"And you," You looked up to Ji, who was looking down at you wide eyed, "You need to apologize for your behavior with Chan. I understand you want to protect me, and I love you for that. Immensely. But he's your leader. He's done and sacrificed so much for you and your members. I'm sure no one knows what's going through his head. Stop giving him such a hard time... I'll figure out a solution with him eventually... even if it's just practicing being civil with each other. For now, try not to take things out on him. I'm sorry I stopped coming around. That fault lies completely on me, and it was petty. I won't avoid anyone anymore, so promise me you'll apologize. And that means as soon as you see him!"

He looked at you, processing your words before answering, "...fine. But seriously... don't go dark on me again, Jagiya." He said quietly. 

You smiled, and snuggled up closer to him, "I won't, my poor baby."

The three of you continued chatting, catching up on all the crazy things you missed out on. Apparently a lot can happen in two weeks. You were angry you missed out on a weekend camping trip. Apparently they all had gotten so drunk, except Chan. And I.N. kept threatening to hit people with his shoe. They informed you that Chan was very quiet on the trip. He kept to himself mostly, and binge ate ice cream instead of sharing a drink with the rest. 

You couldn't get your mind off Hyunjin's words. Chan has been watching you? The amount of time you spent checking him out, you'd figured if that were true you would have noticed. Maybe he was sneakier than you thought. Then again, that night your eyes did meet more than once or twice... You kept catching him looking at you. Maybe what Hyune said was true.

You were stuffed, full of candy and sweets. And also a little tipsy. It was getting late. Close to an hour later, you sent them home in a rideshare, telling them both to text you when they get home. Then you made sure to text Minho, alerting him of exactly how drunk Han was, and apologizing. You knew he'd be the one stuck taking care of him, if there's anyone who loves Ji as much as you, it's Minho. He might love him even more, having known him for much longer than you did. If the boys didn't have such a busy schedule this week, you'd be able to have Ji and Jinnie spend the night and take care of them yourself. 

A weight was lifted off your shoulders, and you silently cursed yourself for hiding yourself away for so long. You always did that, and it never ended well. You really were thankful to Ji, you don't know what you'd do without him.

That night, you felt yourself drifting off to sleep quicker, easier. But even as slumber was pulling you in, Chan was still on your mind. 

Chan was sitting on the couch with Minho, having been forced out of his room and pushed to socialize. He hadn't done much, he was in his thoughts again. Occasionally entertaining the others with curt responses and short conversations here and there. They seemed to just be happy with his presence, and he was thankful for that.

Jisung and Hyunjin had gone to your house, and the unknown made him feel uneasy. He was happy though, because that meant you weren't cutting everyone off, you weren't done with the entire group, you were staying in their lives.

Everyone but the man that fucked up it would seem. Still, he felt relief. He wouldn't forgive himself if he was the cause of a valuable friendship lost for everyone.

The rest of the members had gone to sleep by now, but he and Minho were waiting for the two younger members to arrive home. You had texted Minho saying they were on their way back, and to take care of them as they were drunk. Jisung especially. 

He was wondering what was taking them so long, and he could tell Minho had some worry too. His leg shaking up and down. Then, as if on cue, Hyunjin bursts through the door. He has Hannie in his grasp, pulling him along as he tries to resist entering the dorm.

Hyune mumbled, "C'mon. You promised her." 

He started to feel flushed, and hot. What does that mean?

He gave Hannie a push towards Chan, and Minho gave a worried look to both of them. He was expecting the worst. Jisung was staring at his feet, playing with his fingers and biting his lip. 

Chan didn't think he could feel more disheartened than he already was, but it was apparently possible. Staring at Hannie in front of him, he looked so defeated. What had happened at your house?

Finally he looked up to Chan. And Chan was sure his face mirrored the younger ones anxiety. 

Then Han started tearing up, "I'm sorry Channie-hyung!" He wailed, and collapsed into Chan's arms. 

Chan was shocked, but he just held him close, and softly shushed him, trying to comfort him. He was trying to offer understanding and his own apologies. But Jisung ignored it babbled on, recanting his negative actions and harsh words. Chan respected the fact that he was apologizing, but he already knew why he had said the things he said. Why he had done the things he did. In fact, he held a sense of pride towards Hanji for it. It wasn't easy for him to stand up to Chan. And while, yes, he was being inappropriate from a certain viewpoint, he expected nothing less from the boy trying to protect his best friend. He couldn't be angry with him about that fact.

If anything he just felt more guilty that he had to protect you from Chan at all.

He continued slurring, stuttering, and sniffling in between talking. His words were barely coherent at this point, but Chan did catch one sentence.

"I thought I was losing her forever because of that night..."

Chan never felt more disappointed in himself, his entire being crumpled. Not only did he hurt you, he hurt Han. He's hurt the other members who grew to care for you just as much as he did. He never intended to hurt anyone, and instead he hurt many. It was all his fault.

With the help of Minho, they dragged Han to bed. Minho stayed with him, tucking him in, then getting him water and paracetamol for the morning. Minho stated he'd be spending the night in Han's room, just in case he was going to be sick. So Chan went out to check on Hyunjin, hoping he wasn't as inebriated but expecting as much. He found him in the kitchen, a bottle of water in one hand and a chip bag in the other.

"You feeling okay, Hyunjin?"

"Yeah, I didn't have as much as Han did..." He trailed off, "Neither did y/n." He was eyeing Chan as he continued, a glint in his eye while he said it.

Chan just nodded and kept silent, knowing he was trying to get at something. And it didn't feel like it was anything but teasing. Hyunjin wasn't having that though, he never did when people ignored what he had to say.

"Y/n made Han apologize you know," He started as he opened his chips, "I mean we both know he would've eventually. But she made him promise he would apologize as soon as he saw you."

That piqued his interest somewhat. He didn't view you as a mean person, but he figured you wouldn't mind seeing him distressed due to Han. In fact when he was standing in front of him, he was sure that he was about to get cussed out. By order of you, maybe. Considering Hyune said that Han promised you something. He wouldn't blame you, he deserved it after all.

But no. You were continuing to be your kind and sweet self. Even towards the person who upset you. He was confused.

"Why?" Chan finally whispered, more to himself than Hyune. 

"I believe her words were, 'he's done and sacrificed so much for you' and 'no one knows what's going through his head'. So she suggested that he, well more like intimidated him, to apologize." He said while dipping his hand into the bag of chips, "It was cute, really. She was almost... protective." 

With that he popped a chip in his mouth, and went off to bed, leaving Chan dumbstruck in the kitchen yet again.

His heart was thumping in his ears, unsure of how to interpret those words. But they meant something, right? Hyunjin was a tease, sure, but he must know what happened. He wasn't just teasing about this? Surely he wouldn’t go to that extent.

'No one knows what's going through his head.' 

You were right. No one knows. You don't know. He needed to talk to you, he needed to let you know. He needed to let you in, even if it was hard.

Suddenly he felt hope again. It was small and shriveled, but alive. He was sure with enough care and nourishment, something precious could bloom from it. 

The week flew by, and now it was nearing the weekend again. Things almost felt normal. You had returned to the office regularly, no longer working from home. Your time with Ji had gone back to normal, Jinnie often tagging along now. And the other members were glad you had started showing up again too. Everyone was excited to recommence the late night antics at their dorm tonight.

You couldn't help but notice Chan seemed relieved too, a little too relieved. Even though you clearly gave him the cold shoulder. It didn't seem to bother him. You obviously have an idea of why his attitude towards you changed drastically, but what you don't have an idea of is what his goal is. You can't necessarily say he's acting as if nothing had happened anymore, because of his new demeanors. But he still hasn't mentioned anything to you directly. His gall was starting to irritate you. His mixed signals were angering you. 

If you were to think logically and assume, maybe in his head, he had been attempting some sort of effort to 'fix' things. But you tried to shut it down every single time, still unsure of his reasoning. Because he still never brought up that night, and was acting as if nothing happened at all. As if his reasoning for trying to be more friendly didn't exist. It was ridiculous. 

Before that night, it was always you making sure to greet him first, you striking up small talk, you trying to crack jokes with him. All small and simple gestures, but gestures nonetheless. If only to keep things polite and civil. The tables seemed to have turned, and now he was initiating it all. In front of others you were short with him, but made sure to still be polite. There was a deeper detachment than before, and it didn't go unnoticed by the others either. Though they kept their mouths shut, only eyeing the interactions between you two. 

In your head you figured that he'd get the hint and stop trying so hard at whatever it was he was trying at. You hoped it would trigger a conversation about that night finally. It got to the point where it started to create an awkward vibe in the presence of the others. But no, he still wouldn't stop. He just amped it up, and now the dynamic was once again changing. 

He'd figured out the exact times you would take your breaks, and would manage to catch you before anyone else could. When you stepped off the elevator, he'd be waiting for you with a smile, and offer to buy you a snack. You'd decline, instead opting to take a small walk and stretch your legs. When you get back to your desk you'd find your favorite cookies on them, or your favorite candy bar, or your favorite drink from the vending machine. They were always wrapped nicely or bagged with a bow, with a note attached. It usually reads something like, 'don't forget to eat today! --Channie'. 

You would always hand them out to your co-workers, or offer the singular items to your office bestie, before crumpling the note and throwing it out. 

He'd taken to somehow always being there to hold a door open for you. Or trying to hold your bags when he caught you using the stairs instead of the elevator, actively trying to avoid him. Or when you were helping staff move the camera equipment from room to room, he'd try to take the load off your hands. It always ended in you snapping at him in a whisper. And him furrowing his brows like he didn't understand what he did wrong.

It's not that his actions were wrong, actually. They were the opposite, but why? Why was he doing all this, when he never did before. He was putting all this effort into acts of service, when all you wanted to do was talk. It was hard for you to bring it up, especially when he was acting so sweet yet pissing you off at the same time. 

You should've realized it'd be hard for him to bring it up too, but you didn't. Because of that, there was the Wednesday incident. 

You were heading home for the day, not having had a run in with Chan all day, and unsure how to feel about it. You were almost out the door when you heard heavy footsteps coming towards you from across the lobby, and your stomach twisted. 

Chan.

"Hey! Wait!" He said with a smile, "I'll walk you to your car." 

You'd had enough at that point. You rolled your eyes, and continued out the door. But you knew he'd catch up anyways. 

As his pace aligned with yours, he kept talking, "Sorry I couldn't catch you at all today, it was a busy one. It still is, I think I'll be stuck in the studio all night. Han too, we finally figured out the ho--"

"Chan!" You cut him off, "Really? What makes you think I'm in the mood to talk to you? What makes you think I was waiting for your presence at all? You don't need to apologize for being busy. We're at work. We're working. It's what we do." You spat out, more abrasive than you've ever been to him. 

He looked at you wide eyed, and you felt something akin to guilt pang in your chest. Immediately you ignored it, and kept walking. Only for him to latch onto your arm gently. 

"I don't understand." He said, discouragement lacing his voice. "I'm trying to... trying to--" 

"Trying to what? What exactly is it that you're trying to do? Because I can't figure it out. You're being so hot and cold, you went from one extreme to the other. I don't know how to decipher that."

"I just want things to go back to being okay again! I want us to be normal again." He said exasperated. 

"Okay?!" You chuckled, "Normal? Our normal was borderline avoiding each other, which I am keeping up with very well, thank you. Our normal was talking to each other out of necessity. Our normal was little to no interaction, unless we're in a group. Whatever you're trying at, it's not our normal!" You shouted.

"No, what I mean is-" but you cut him off again, too heated to think logically.

"Our normal definitely didn't include me against a wall, and your fingers inside me and around my throat. THAT is not our normal. And I know it made things uncomfortable. And I know you regret it. But how can you expect things to go back to being whatever you think 'okay' is, if we haven't even talked about it?" You took a second to suck air into your lungs that seemed to be burning with rage. 

"Instead you talk to me like that night never happened, and then you behave as if we've been best friends forever. You act as if that behavior, whatever your reason for it, isn't influenced by that night. You talk to me about things we never talked about before. We never caught up on how each other's day was, we never checked in with each other to make sure the other ate, we never took breaks together to get coffee or a snack and chat. You're expecting me to be the same as you, and ignore what happened. But I can't Chan, I can't do it. All I want is closure, instead it feels almost like I'm being led on. Before that happened, I was insignificant to your life. Our only connection being Ji! Then... then in an instant everything changed and then it changed again. It's confusing Chan. I'm lost here." 

The tears were brimming in your eyes, and his ears were the brightest red you've ever seen. The flush went to his cheeks, and down his neck, and the grip he had on your arm was trembling. He started to open his mouth again, but you were quick to stop him. You felt like all he would give you right now is excuses, and you weren't ready to hear that.

"Please, Chan. I'm the one who's trying. I'm trying to move past it, like you seem to want to. But it's harder for me. When I feel like this, all I want to do is go home and hide. I can't do that though, not again. I'm trying to be civil. I'm trying to be polite, for the sake of everyone in our lives. But you keep pushing for some sort of friendship we never had..." You felt the dampness on your cheeks now, and before you knew it, your last sentence slipped through, "And did it ever occur to you that I wanted more than a simple friendship?" 

At that he let your arm fall, and he took in a shaky breath. You figured now was the time he would say something, but he seemed frozen. Then he spoke in a soft tone.

"I'm so sorry y/n, I promise I can explain..."

That was it, your heart started to ache at the thought of his words. You weren't ready to be rejected again. So you rubbed your cheeks, one at a time, swiping the tears away and sniffling. He reached towards you again, stepping closer, but you stepped back. 

"I need to go."

And you left. You got in your car, and you held it all in. The whole drive home, you refused to let yourself process any of the conversation. Which in reality was less of a conversation, and more you blowing up on Chan. 

It wasn't until you stepped through your door that you sunk to the floor, back against your front door and started sobbing. You let it all out. The guilt for yelling at him. The despair over the rejection, that never left your heart. The embarrassment over the entire situation and how you were acting. Your unjust, pure anger. It all just came out in tears. You couldn't stop them, your only focus was on breathing when you could. 

You didn't know how long you stayed like that, hugging your knees and bawling your eyes out. But the sound of keys jingling, and the pressure of the door pushing against your back, is what snapped you out of that grief stricken daze.

"Oh, Jagiya..." You registered Hans voice as you stood up to move, you forgot you gave him keys to your place.

He scooped you into his chest, squeezing you tight. You held onto him, just as firm. 

"Wait..." You were confused, Chan said they both would be late in the studio, "What are you doing here?"

He pulled back and scanned your face as you sniffled. He sighs, and leads you into your kitchen, wetting a towel and dabbing at your puffy eyes and cheeks before drying them. Once you seemed to be in a pacified state, he continued. 

"An unintelligent kangaroo I happen to know, told me I should head home early and check on you. He seems to be more intelligent than I thought." He tried to make light of the situation, but guilt bubbled up in you once again. 

"Wanna talk about what happened?" He offered. 

And so you word vomited at him. Retelling the whole scene word for word, since the words were mostly your own. He listened, nodding when necessary, and humming in agreement to some parts. When you were done, you looked at him and waited. 

He was looking down with his arms crossed, leaning against your kitchen counter. He looked deep in thought. 

"Well?" You said desperately. 

"Well, I think it's good one of you finally broke the ice on it. You got it off your chest, you said what you needed to. Yeah, maybe you were rude. But now the door to talk about it finally was opened. However, maybe you should've heard him out. Seems like he could barely get a word in edgewise. If I know you when you're angry, which I do, I know you never planned on letting him speak. You always have to have the last word, my little attack chihuahua."

Then he poked your forehead, "Stubborn. Defensive. Both of you." 

You groaned, "I know, I know. I'm already beating myself up over it." 

"When will either of you learn? You don't need to beat yourself up over it, you just need to communicate. You missed your opportunity today, but that doesn't mean all hope is lost. I know he really wants to talk to you."

"Talk again?" You scrunch your face at the idea, even while knowing it had to happen.

"Apologize, is more like it." He retorted. 

Your face dropped, but you knew he was right. 

"Hey, you made me do it. And it was the right thing to do. Like you said, no matter how angry I am, I needed to apologize. The same rules apply to you... Plus I've been hesitant to say this but..."

"What?"

"If he wanted to stop in the middle of it all, he had every right to. I know it hurts but, no means no, you know?" 

Guilt flooded your veins yet again, are you really coming across as some sort of hostile person after facing a rejection? You suppose it was half right, which made you feel disappointed in yourself. You were no better than the men who throw tantrums when women reject them. In your mind though, you were more upset at ignoring it all. 

"I know that, and currently I'm not angry because sex didn't happen. I'm angry because I don't understand why it almost happened, and I want an explanation. I just want to know why he was so cold to me the entire time before it happened, and why he tried to act like nothing happened and was friendlier to me afterwards. If he wanted to stop because he changed his mind and wasn't feeling it, that's fine. But he could've said that, I'd be hurt because I like him so much, but I'd get over it. Why I'm upset now is because I don't like the mixed signals. I don't like the unknown. I want closure."

"To get closure you have to talk to him y/n, you avoid him just as much as he used to avoid you. Now that he's stopped, you're still avoiding him. And acting kind of rude to him, we've all seen it. The fake smiles don't really hide the contempt in your eyes. You're always valid in your emotions always, but I've recently learned that it's the reaction that you are held responsible for. That goes for him too, even though his reactions may not be as hostile as yours. His reaction of ignoring it, is just as hurtful to you. But... I have a feeling if you hear him out, you'll get your closure." 

Again, you knew he was right about it all. You knew you had been bitter and immature about the entire situation. You paced for a moment, thinking about how you could even apologize to him. He'd been trying to fix things, and talk just like you wanted. Why have you held on to all that anger for so long? You were in the wrong too, more so than he was. You needed to apologize quickly.

"Just take the night to process and decompress. You'll have plenty of opportunities to talk with him, especially since his mission in life lately is just that. Again, we've all noticed it, he can't seem to leave you alone."

"Do you know what he's up to?" You squint your eyes at Ji suspiciously. 

"He won't tell anyone exactly why he's doing what he's doing. But I have my own speculations, which I won't be sharing because I'm not trying to meddle and put ideas in your head. After talking with him a bit tonight, I don't think he's aiming to hurt you, that's for sure." 

You sighed again, and nodded. 

"Now. Dinner and comfort anime? I'm thinking.... Nana?" 

"God, yes please. I need a distraction from realizing how much of an asshole I was. That I was actually the one starting issues." You groan, and you both plop down the couch and start to order food. 

Ji went home half an hour ago, and you're now staring at your phone. Debating the text you typed up to Chan. Your finger was hovering over the send button. It would be better to apologize in person, but you weren't sure you could face him without some sort of emotional outburst anymore. It was something you needed to work on. So maybe smoothing things over through text before you spoke with him would help.  

You read it over one last time... God you sounded too professional, like you were talking to your boss. You hit send anyway, you weren't going to come up with anything better to say. You put your phone down, only for it to buzz a minute later.

Good... things are starting to get better. Or so you thought. 

You didn't see him at all on Thursday, nor spoke to him. You didn't see Jiji either, but he confirmed through text that Chan had been cooped up with him in the studio. You felt bad, knowing you probably added more stress to their jobs. Especially considering Ji ditched work yesterday to comfort you. 

Now it was Friday, and they were back at work in the studio again. Hyunjin was over yours because he finished up early, the both of you were just hanging out. Waiting for everyone else to get out. The nine of you were recommencing weekend get togethers.

"You should bring them food." Hyunjin, who was currently laying across your couch suggested.

He could sense your anxiety, constantly checking your phone for the time. He knew you wanted to talk to Chan, finally.

"I don't want to interrupt them, I already did that yesterday." You mumbled.

"Tch, like either of them would really view you as an interruption. They'd be elated."

"Ji? Yes, yes he would. You know things are weird between me and Chan though." You whined.

"Mmm, but this could be your chance to fix it." He suggested in a sing-song voice. 

You actually debated it, but you didn't want to prolong his work tonight by stealing time for a conversation. A most likely lengthy conversation. 

You looked at the clock, still debating and wondering if you had time. When you saw the time you realized it was much later than you thought. 

"Shit, forget food. We're going to be late." 

Hyunjin glanced at the time and nodded, "Alright, let's head to mine."

You grabbed your keys and headed for the door, Hyunjin followed and soon you both were in the car on the way to the dorm. 

Once you got there, and Hyunjin let you in, you realized everyone was already here, judging by the pile of shoes. It seemed, the majority were getting cleaned up and changed into fresh clothes. 

"I'm going to change too! I need to get out these jeans and into something comfier. Just make yourself at home!" He said while heading to his bedroom. 

You sat on the couch and started scrolling on your phone. You were laughing at a funny video when you heard someone walking down the hall. Of course Chan is the first to finish, and he decides to join you on the couch. He takes the seat next to you, like right next to you. 

"Um... Do you have to sit so close?" You say in the softest voice you could manage.

Remember. Stay level headed, no snapping, no meltdown, no blow ups. Don't yell. 

He looks at you a bit defeated, and moves to the other end of the couch. 

You sigh. Things were still touchy. It can't keep continuing on like this, it's too uncomfortable for you both. You have to apologize and make amends. It's now or never, but he speaks before you the chance. 

"Y/n. Is now a good time to talk?" He says in a serious tone, with a stern look on his face. 

You tense under his gaze, and your stomach feels like it's sinking. Was he that mad at you? You kind of understand why though. 

"S-sure." You stuttered.

His eyes darkened, tongue poking his cheek. He's getting shifty now, and glancing down the hallway.

 "Do you mind if we talk in private?" 

You suppose it would be even more uncomfortable if someone else happened across you two discussing this. So when he stands up and heads towards his room, you follow him into it. 

His room was neat. You'd never been in it before, and sure, you've seen the live streams. But it was a very different feeling, seeing it through a screen versus being inside it. 

He sits on his bed, and pats the spot next to him for you to sit. You opt for leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of you. You were feeling defensive still, and didn't want to push your limits. It was his turn to sigh now, as he hung his head.

"Y/n I meant it when I said I'm really tryi--"

"Can I say something first... and then I promised I won't interrupt you again."

He just nods, with his tongue poking his cheek again. You know you're pushing his buttons, but you felt you needed to apologize before anything. Now you decided to sit next to him, twisting your torso to face him. And he did the same to face you. 

"I'm sorry for the way I acted. It was incredibly childish." You sighed, "I know you had every right to change your mind, and I shouldn't have gotten so angry over it. I never meant to act so toxic towards you. I should've just accepted the fact that you wanted to stop and moved on. But the truth is... I've liked you for a while now. So when that happened, in my head, I took it as you reciprocating my feelings. Which doesn't make any sense, because you never knew of my feelings.”

Chan snorted a bit, trying to conceal a laugh.

“Then when you stopped, paired with the look on your face, it felt like you realized you made a mistake doing that with me. You looked like you were disgusted. Which I promise you, I now totally understand if that's the case. But it still hurt me... regardless, I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. So again, I'm sorry. I truly am. I hope you can forgive me." You managed to get it all out clearly, with a steady tone. 

He was staring at you with a thoughtful look on his face, soaking in your words, processing. Then he smirked, and that was the last thing you expected. 

"I guess you were acting a little bratty." He chuckled a bit. 

Then he reached for your hand, putting his on top of yours. You felt the fluttering in your stomach at his simple action. But you flipped your hand over anyways, palm up and letting him hold it.

"But y/n, you've got it all wrong, and it's partly my fault." He started, and your eyebrows furrowed, a look of confusion falling on your face.

"I like you too," he squeezed your hand gently, and it was oddly comforting, "The reason I stopped is because I didn't want you to think that all I wanted from you was sex. Because I want so much more." 

Were you dreaming? Is he really confessing right now? Even after how horrible you were towards him?

"I know the way I acted before doesn't exactly translate to me having feelings for you." He continued, "The truth is I was too scared to confess, until that night. The liquor gave me that extra boost of confidence, and you just... looked so beautiful. And the game we played, and catching you look my way multiple times. It almost confirmed to me that you wanted me too. Because I wanted you then and there. So when I saw you in the hallway, I thought it was my chance. But I let the lust take over."

Heat started to spread in your lower stomach at his words, and he kept going. 

"I wanted to do things the proper way. I wanted to confess, and ensure that you knew I was serious about you, and not a fling. I wanted to take you out on dates, and properly ask you to be mine. I should have just said it all that night. I got scared again though, and just froze. And I know the way I was acting right after was confusing, I didn't mean to give you mixed signals."

Your head was spinning with all the information he was sharing, it truly felt like you were in a daydream. Then you found your voice again.

"It felt like you were disgusted with me." You whispered, "And then you were acting so nonchalant about the whole thing, as if it never happened. I guess I was assuming things."

He cupped your cheek, and comfortingly rubbed his thumb against it

"I could never be disgusted by you, love."

You had to resist a shiver at him calling you that pet name.

"I wanted us both to be sober too. That's why I idiotically told you to drink water, and rest. And the next morning, I was so nervous because you were rushing to leave. You had tears in your eyes, I said the first thing to pop into my head. I was hoping to talk about everything that morning. But then you walked out the door, and I felt like I had no right to stop you.  Then Hannie was so mad at me, you stopped coming around. I felt like I fucked everything up and I lost all hope for a while." He sounded distraught.

“Until Hannie argued with me, yelling at me to fix things. He outright put the entire blame on me, and he did this in front of everyone. So that experience paired with your disappearance from our lives, especially Hannies life. He was so lost without you, I knew I had to try and fix it right away. I had been wanting to, I was just so unsure how to go about it. But Han's words pushed me to just go for it."

You took the opportunity to scoot closer to him, side by side now. He threw his arm around your waist. 

"The elevator... ugh. I was just so hurt, I was so sure that you were going to come up with excuses, try to let me down easy. I was terrified of the rejection. I had no idea, I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, we were both a little clueless about everything."

"I guess we were just a little stupid, huh?" You laughed.

He chuckled, "Just a bit."

"Then when Hyunjin happened to mention something, that's when I fully had hope again. So I tried to approach you, and be friendly, and get you snacks. I tried to help you out at work when I could. I was still unsure of how to bring it up to you." He admitted.

You felt so ashamed, "And then I went and yelled at you. I didn't even let you speak, ugh. I'm so sorry." 

"Again with the apologizing," He chuckled, "I told you, we were just confused about it. There was a lot of miscommunication... when we did talk anyways."

"I know, I was feeling and throwing mixed signals. All I wanted the entire time was to talk about it. Yet, I tried to avoid you at all costs. It doesn't exactly make sense. God, I was so... so childish."

"You were feisty is what you were. And I'm sure you still are." He joked.

You giggled. It was unbelievable how understanding he was. It was more shocking how wrong you were about his feelings. You had completely misconstrued everything. Assuming the worst. You couldn't be happier about being so wrong.

Nuzzling into his chest, and wrapping your arm around his torso, had him humming contently. But then you thought of what he said earlier. 

"What did Hyunjin say...?"

He cleared his throat, "When you made Hannie apologize to me, Jin said that you were acting almost protective over me. It made me think that I had a chance of proving my feelings for you."

"So that's the true reason why you were so friendly, and constantly getting me things and trying to help me out. You were lowkey trying to confess.” You looked up to him smiling.

He was blushing now, "Yeah, but I realize I was still doing things a little out of order. I'm terrible at communicating I guess." 

"Channie..." you said for the first time, and his blush got deeper, "I know it means a lot to you to do things traditionally. And I appreciate the effort you put in to accomplish that. But to me, it doesn't matter as much. We could've figured everything out afterwards." You said softly, and he was smiling down at you. 

"I guess I should catch up to the modern age." He joked. 

"Never! You prove that chivalry isn't dead. I love that you're a romanticist. Don't change." You laughed, "And... the communication problems? That's something we can both work on. I need to fix that in me too."

You felt him tense, and he caught your chin between his fingers, pushing you to look up at him further. You felt the warmth of his breathing spread across your face, he had that same look on his face as when he leant in to kiss you that night. Wetness was now pooling in your panties, and you had to resist clenching your thighs together. He was so in tune with your body language, and he caught it last time. You're sure he would notice again. You didn't want him to think you were rushing him into sex.

"So... does that mean you want to give us a go?" He was so serious when he said it, you could see the glint of excitement in his eyes though. 

"Of course, it's a dream come true." You smiled at him.

He was quick to bring his lips to yours, kissing you sweetly, softly. You sighed into the kiss, and felt like you were melting into him as you turned your body towards him more. You brought your hands up, one resting on the side of his neck, the other on his shoulder. He brought his other hand to the back of your head, and combed his fingers into your curls. 

He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, licking your bottom lip. Your tongue met his, and soon you were wrestling against his for dominance. He started leaning you back against his bed, adjusting himself on top of you, knees on either side of your thighs. His hands roamed your body and he never broke away from your lips. You were nearly panting into his mouth, giving up and allowing him to explore your mouth. Your hands clutching his shirt like it would save you. The kiss was messy, downright sloppy, and you loved it. You were both desperate for this.

You wanted to imprint his touch into your mind. Every area he grazed made you feel tingly all over. Your entire body was oversensitive for him. You'd never felt like this with anyone else. 

Then he was playing with the hem of your shirt, his fingers grazing your stomach. You mewled at that, and he groaned. It was so high pitched it nearly sounded like a whimper. 

"Please... I still want you." He whispered against your lips. 

You were breathing heavy, chest heaving. You couldn't help it when your hips bucked up, letting yourself get consumed by lust, "Yes, god yes. I need you."

He re-positioned himself, lowering his body onto yours and letting his hips grind into you. You could feel his length against you through his shorts, and you whined. Even this felt like ecstasy, he almost made you cum last time from dry humping. He was so skilled at making sure you got friction exactly where you needed it. It was driving you feral. 

His lips attached to your neck, kissing, sucking, and biting his way down to your chest. His hand groped your breast, kneading it. Then he rolled over, flipping your position, so you were on top of him. It was your turn to grind your hips, your core rubbing directly on his erection. He threw his head back, mouth hanging open. His hands gripped your waist, helping you move against him. 

Things felt less rushed this time around. It felt like all time stopped, and the only thing that existed in the world was you and him. You wanted to be lost in this passion with him forever. The high he made you feel, made your head all hazy with desire. 

"Fuck..." He whispered as he looked up at you, seeing how fucked out you looked already. 

His hands slipped underneath your shirt, pulling it up. You took the hint and ripped it off, unclasping your bra afterwards. 

You had to admit, you felt your face flush again, at being exposed to him. But he soon wiped the thought from your mind, leaning up and placing soft kisses all over your chest. He kissed up to your collar bones, he kissed each mound, kissed in between them, he even kissed your nipples so gently. 

You were learning he was a tease.

One hand was kneading your breast again, the other braced against your back. Then his lips closed around one of your nipples, and his hot tongue swirled around it. His hand now playing with the other. Pinching, flicking, and rubbing. He braced the hand against your back, pushing you into him more, while he sucked your nipple harshly. You whimpered, and your hips started rolling against him again.

He pulled off with a pop, and mumbled "I could worship these tits love, all of you is so gorgeous."

His words made you blush, and then he pushed you onto your back again. He clearly wasn't scared to manhandle you at all. He was quickly unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans.

"Need to tase you..." He mumbled again.

You liked needy Chan, somehow he kept the perfect balance of dominant yet deprived for you. He positioned himself between your legs, kissing and licking every inch of them. He held your inner thigh, pushing your legs apart to expose your panties. He placed a kiss on your clothed center, and groaned at the wet spot that was already there. His tongue peeked out, and he licked a slow stripe up, making your underwear wetter. Your eyes rolled back and you sighed, craving more.

And did you mention that you loved how vocal he was? 

He licked his lips as he glanced up at you, mumbling "Taste so good, 'M gonna be addicted. Wanna be between your thighs all the time."

Then he spoke more clearly, with a smirk on his face "You're going to sit on my face one day. I want you to ride it."

You whined at the thought, and pushed your hips up, searching for friction. He took the opportunity to slide your panties to the side, and his tongue slid between your folds immediately. 

You moaned loudly as his tongue flicked against your clit. You felt like you were on fire, yet shivering at the goosebumps spreading all over your body. Your hand reached down to his hair, and he groaned again, making his lips vibrate against you. 

"Mmm... fuck." You moaned as you rocked your hips against his face. 

He has no objections, but he momentarily paused to rip your panties off. Then he wraps his arms around each thigh, forcing you to open wider for him. He buried his face in you, letting his tongue dip into your entrance. 

You gasped at the intrusion, your hand squeezing tighter into his hair. It had you nearly wailing. You'd never felt that before, and you think you could cum from it.

When his lips closed around your clit, he sucked. You were panting, feeling that familiar pleasure slowly coil in your lower abdomen. 

He wasn't shy at all about devouring you, making slurping and squelching sounds. He brought his hand to your entrance, and slipped two fingers inside. You moaned, and he let you adjust before curling his fingers and pumping into you. Your orgasm is building faster now. 

Writhing on the bed, and clutching his sheets, he did his best to keep you still. You were a moaning and whining mess. You couldn't help but be loud. His hand moved faster, as the tip of his tongue flicked at your clit. It was all too much as you felt your climax wash over your. You let out a desperate groan, your legs quivering as his hand squeezed your thigh tighter, preventing you from squeezing your legs shut.

Once you whimpered at the overstimulation, he stopped. Giving your clit one last kiss, sending one last shiver up your spine. Your chest was heaving, you were out of breath. He climbed up your body, wiping your juices and his saliva off his chin with the back of his hand. When he kissed you again, you could taste yourself on him, and you hummed as you licked against his tongue.

He kept kissing you, and you tugged at his shirt, "No fair, I'm completely naked and you're fully dressed."

He chuckled and sat up, pulling his shirt off. You reached up to feel his abs, fingers tracing between each muscle. You moved up to his pecks, and when your palm grazed against his nipple, he hissed. Picking up on it, it was your turn to kiss his chest, making sure to pay special attention to his nipples. Your tongue lapping at them, and then sucking them. 

He quickly turned into a whining mess. His voice making you grow wetter, and clenching around nothing. 

You really loved how vocal he was.

He made quick work of pulling his pants and boxers off, and leaned back down to kiss you. The pressure of his weight on top of you was comforting, and you placed your arms on his shoulders. His cock twitched against your core, and you were mewling again. 

He smiled against your lips and whispered, "Is my love needy right now?"

Then his fingers wrapped around your neck, and you bit your lip. Your hand was now on top of his, making him squeeze lightly, and you whined.

"Does my baby girl want to be choked right now?”

"Chan if you don't fuck me right now, I swear I'll--"

Before you could finish, he was gripping the base of his member. Sliding into you at a steady pace, and you gasped. He lets you adjust again. The length surprised you, and his girth stretched you deliciously. You always knew this man was hung. 

His hand never left your throat, and he did add more pressure around it. But you still desperately needed more.

He must've read your mind, or at least your face, "You're really into breathplay huh? Need it harder?"

Your mind was clouded in pleasure, you felt so full having him inside you. His hand on your throat only heightens it. So you nodded as best you could. 

"Remember, I need the words baby girl." 

"Yes, yes, fuck yes." You moaned.

He nearly growled as he pulled out and snapped his hips into you sharply. He kept pumping into you. Rolling his hips into you roughly, skin slapping against skin. His hand squeezed your throat tightly, cutting off all oxygen and then easing up, so you could get a proper breath in. Everything felt blissful, consumed by need. 

Your hips started rolling, meeting each of his thrusts. You were focused on making sure you both got off.

He had his eyes closed, face scrunched in concentration and panting, "Shit, you're so wet love. So tight, gonna cum too fast."

You clenched around him hearing that, and let out another whimper. You felt it building up in you again. His pace became uneven, and you knew he was nearing his climax. 

"Please..." he begged with a strangled whine, "Cum with me, can't hold on much longer."

"Channie... so close, just a little more." You panted back.

He removed his hand from around your neck and down to your clit, rubbing quickly in little circles. That was all you needed to let go, becoming a moaning and quivering mess. Your walls were clenching around him again, as you rode out your orgasm. 

He groans, hips stuttering before he pulls out of you. Giving himself a few pumps, he let out a loud and strangled cry as he finished. He was spurting ropes of cum all over your stomach, only slowing when the last of it was dripping down his cock and onto his fingers.

It was so sensual, you grabbed his hand and sucked them into your mouth. Making sure to lick them clean, keeping eye contact with him. His lips parted and he was looking at you so affectionately. When you finally popped them out of your mouth, he immediately caressed your face.

"How are you so perfect?" He murmured. 

He bent down and pressed a gentle kiss against your lips, and you slowly moved yours with his. This kiss was different, less desperate and more so savoring the moment. You felt lost in him. Nothing else mattered right now but you and him, the rest of the world melted away. You two were in your own bubble, and you couldn't be happier. 

When he pulled away, he spoke "That was amazing, my love." 

"It was." You giggled.

"I'm sorry it was a little rushed, I was craving you so bad." He said as he rested his head in the crook of your neck, a little embarrassed. 

Your fingers brushed through his hair. He was right, it was rushed on both ends. You both were a little clumsy, figuring out each other's bodies for the first time. But that doesn't mean the sex was horrible, he made you cum twice. 

"We'll have plenty of chances to take our time with each other. I think after everything, we were both hopelessly desperate for each other, and like you said. It was amazing Channie."

"I like hearing Channie coming from you, as different as it is." 

"Mmmm, I have to think of another pet name. You claimed 'love' already." 

He just chuckled, "You can call me whatever you want, Channie, love, Jagi. I don't mind."

"I think Ji would keel over if I called you Jagi instead of him." You giggled.

"Hannie can deal with it, he's not the only man in your life that's close to you anymore." 

Chan got up to get you a towel, and cleaned you up.

You felt satisfied, laying down facing each other, and still embracing. 

"So, about the other chances you mentioned. Maybe we can try out the edging you like so much. And all it takes for me to truly dom you is flipping a switch in my head and not holding back. I'm just not sure you can handle it."

"I can handle it, I'll be your perfect little sub." You snuggle closer to him.

"Hmmm, why do I doubt that for some reason. We already know how bratty you are."

"That just means more punishments for me, which I'm sure we'll both love."

"Is that so?" He started leaning in to kiss you.

Suddenly there was banging on the door. 

"Are you two finished? I'm assuming your finished since all the noise stopped." Hanji yelled.

You looked wide eyed at Chan and he had a smug smile on his face.

"We'd like you to join us, we're playing cards against humanity tonight. Besides it's my time with my Jagi again, I'd like to be able to see you." Jiji shouted through the door. 

You both scrambled to dress yourselves. He gave you his t-shirt, and some sweats. Slipping on nearly the same outfit, you opened the door to a pouting Ji. His face slowly transformed into a smirk as he looked you up and down. 

"Better fix your sex hair babes, although I guess there’s no hiding your hickies and bruises though." He leaned in and whispered, "I didn't know you liked it that rough, his fingers are clear as day on your neck. You nympho." He poked your tummy repeatedly. 

You nudged him and rolled your eyes, "Shut up." 

Channie came up behind you, and wrapped his arms around your waist, giving you a back hug. Just like that, Ji was back to pouting. 

"This means I have to share my cuddle time, ugh." He whined.

Chan just patted the top of his head, laughing, "You'll get used to it." 

"Hmph. I'm not going to stop calling her Jagi or babe or any other pet names. I was here first!" He stated.

Chan just chuckled, "I wouldn't expect you to Hannie."

He just turned around, still pouting, and headed back to the living room. You and Channie followed behind him, hand in hand. Eyes glued to each other, and smiling. 

"Oh great, we have to deal with this now, on top of you and Han overdosing us with PDA?" Seungmin complained. 

"I just knew something was up with you two, it's about time you fixed it." Innie commented. 

"Yeah, and by the sound of it. Making up went really well." Changbin jokes, then his eyes wander to your neck, "You know, for as much noise you two were making, I'd never expect you'd be choking her in there."

You blushed intensely, and Channie cleared his throat, smiling, and scratching the back of his head. The group laughed, and you and Chan took your seats. Which was him sitting in the chair as usual, and you sitting in his lap. 

"God, this is going to take getting used to." Hyunjin said with a smirk. 

"You act like you didn't partially help orchestrate this whole thing." Jiji teased. 

"What?!" Felix snapped, "And you didn't tell me?" Now he was pouting. 

"It wasn't my business to tell. Besides, I only nudged them a little bit to communicate. They both seriously lack in that area." Hyune responded. 

"Mmhm, I have to agree with that." Minho chimed in with a smug smile. 

"Alright, alright. Enough poking fun at us. All that matters is that things can go back to normal." Chan said. 

You faced him, "I still don't think this was our normal before, but it definitely can be our new normal now." 

He smiled and gave you a peck on the lips, to which the entire room started gagging, and acting disgusted. They got distracted while setting up the card game, Chan whispered something in your ear. 

"I know we've been doing things abnormally, and this might be a little fast. And we also have a lot more to talk about, but... Will you be mine?" 

You break out into a huge smile, and press your lips to his ear, "Of course Channie. I'd love nothing more than to be your girlfriend."

He turned his head to kiss you again, except this time it wasn't a peck. Your lips moved in sync for a few seconds, and everyone once again noticed. 

"Yeah, you were right Hyune. This is going to take A LOT of getting used to." Felix agreed.

"I don't think I've ever seen Chan-hyung like this before... It's a little weird." Innie chimed in.

"That's because he hasn't done anything like this before. Outright claiming someone? That's new territory for him." Minho said.

"No wonder it was so hard for him to pursue y/n." Seungmin said, "Although I really did have a feeling it was going to be Hannie that ended up with her."

Ji made a face, "Never. Our love isn't romantic, even though we both love skinship."

They were interrupted by the wet sounds of you both still making out. 

 Ji started pouting again, shouting, "Yah! Are we going to play or what? Surely you can both hold off until later, sheesh." 

You pulled away and you and Channie laughed.

"Alright, let's play!" You said excitedly. 

Maybe this was new territory for you, but you felt comfortable in it already. You were so glad that you and Channie were able to find solace in each other. Maybe you guys weren't quite in love yet, but you were elated that he returned your feelings fully.  

This is the normal that Chan was talking about, and you wouldn't dream of having it any other way.

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[magniloquent-raven]

"Oh, good, you are alive." Eddie says as soon as Tommy opens his front door. He pushes his way into the house without waiting for a response, and leaves Tommy blinking at empty space.

"...Sure, come on in," he mutters.

"Would it kill you to answer your phone some time?" Eddie's standing in the living room, hands on his hips, looking at Tommy like he's expecting something.

And Tommy's still lingering in his own doorway, suddenly very aware of how ripe his PJs have gotten. "It's my day off." It's a lame excuse and he knows it. He turns away to shut the door so he won't have to look Eddie in the eye.

"It's been, like, three weeks, man."

Tommy sighs quietly. "Yeah, look, it's just..."

"Is this the part where you tell me you both love me equally and it isn't my fault mommy and daddy are getting divorced." He's being flippant, but there's anger there. Tension in his voice. Tommy's not sure if it's on his own behalf or Evan's. Either would be fair, probably.

No. No, it isn't. It's not fair. He doesn't get to storm in here and judge Tommy's life choices. It's not like he's happy with himself about this, he didn't want to break things off. It just. Didn't work out.

"We don't, Eddie."

"What?"

Tommy folds his arms across his chest. "Love you equally. He needs you more than I do."

"What happened to me being allowed to have more than one friend?"

You know what happened, Tommy wants to snap, wants to be the kind of person who gets so angry he breaks, bleeds the tension out. He wants to untangle the knot that's been tightening in his chest for weeks.

Instead he hunches his shoulders. "Nothing, you have plenty of friends. A whole station of them." Tommy bites the inside of his lip so hard he tastes iron, and his eyes fall shut for a moment while he collects himself. "I was trying to make things easier for you."

Eddie narrows his eyes. "Yeah, nothing easier than getting ghosted. In fact, I love it when people I care about suddenly stop talking to me."

"You know what I meant. You have to take his side."

"Oh, I am. Breaking up with him like that was stupid, and he's really hurt."

Tommy barely contains his wince.

"But you were my friend before you were his boyfriend." Eddie's expression shifts, not quite softening. "I'm not here to defend Buck's honour, I'm here because my friend isn't making good choices and I'm worried about him."

He cried that night three weeks ago. Held off until he'd made it home and then bawled like a child, curled up in the dark and not bothering to wipe the snot from his nose. He hasn't cried since. Not when he found one of Evan's sweaters shoved between the cushions on his couch. Not when a date night reminder he forgot to delete from his phone dinged three days ago. Every time he wakes up to nothing but empty lock-screen he feels a little more hollow thinking about all the texts he used to get in the middle of the night.

But he hasn't been crying about it. Until now.

He's not sure what it is exactly. Something about Eddie refusing to let Tommy stonewall him. Something about all the things he's gone through alone never mattering to anyone. Not enough to warrant more than courtesy comfort.

"Woah, hey, was it something I said?"

Tommy shakes his head, and wipes his cheek with the heel of his hand. "It's been a weird few weeks."

It has, is the thing. He used to be good at being alone. But six months of borrowed time was enough for him to be in a lot deeper than he thought. He doesn't just miss Evan he misses being invited to his family dinners, and hearing about life with the 118.

"How 'bout I drink your beer while you tell me about it."

"...Okay."

[bluewaterlily]

My birthday is one week away and I’m still losing my shit over the fact that I’m gonna be alone all day.

[azsazz]

Shots & Spins

Hockey!Azriel x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Req from @kristijenner19: I saw you were thinking about hockey!AZ because same. How about a fic where she's a figure skater and they're trying to teach each other their respective sports. Imagine poor Az trying to do a spin/jump/twizzle and a reader who can barely ever make a shot into a goal

Bonus points if they switch their skates and have to re-learn how to skate with the new blade

Warnings: Mild panic attack, mentions of readers injury (torn ACL), trauma from coaches (verbal) mentioned.

Word Count: 3088

Other Fics in the Hockey!Az AU: Penance, Shut Out, Out of Order, All's Well That Ends Well, Brr-eakdown

HOCKEY SZN SOON MY LOVES 💙💙

Notes: I swear I meant to make this cuter but of course, I had to give it some angst 😅

_________________________________________

“What is this?” You question. You’re probably being rude, with your nose scrunched in disgust. With the way you’re holding the pair of skates as far away from your body as possible, you’re pretty sure you look like the biggest bitch on all of campus. But for the life of you, you can’t figure out why Azriel has handed you hockey skates.

“They’re skates,” Azriel answers. You rip your glare from the offending skates at his obvious response. Your heart stumbles in your chest at the sight of his pink lips twitching, begging to reveal that grin he spends most of his time expertly hiding.

You don’t even realize you’re leaning closer in anticipation, so eager to see that smile until the hitch of his breath snaps you back to consciousness.

You rock back on your heels so quickly you nearly tumble over. Would tumble over if it weren’t for Azriel’s quick reflexes, his large hands enveloping your waist and steadying you back on your feet.

“Thanks,” you reply flatly, dipping your chin to the ground to hide your flaming cheeks. There’s not an ounce of amusement in your body.

“You’re welcome.” You don’t like the smugness in his tone or the way he’s playing with you. Tilting your face back up, you muster all the annoyance lancing through your veins at his retort, shooting him the nastiest glare.

“That’s not what I meant, Az, and you know it. Why am I holding a pair of hockey skates?”

Azriel sits on the bench beside the empty arena, and you want to pout. Why would you want to spend any more time at the rink than you already do? You’re bone-fucking-tired and your knee is feeling stiff. You overdid it in practice this week, trying to get back into the shape you were in before the time you’d been forced to take off, and it’s hitting you hard. All you really want to do is crawl home, roll out your muscles, and dive into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

When you don’t join Azriel, he says, with a humor you don’t feel, “Don’t tell me you forgot about our little bet. Or how you so gracefully lost it.”

Of course you hadn’t forgotten. Who could forget losing at something as simple as a race across the arena? Afterwards, you tried to blame it on the differences in the ice, how it was colder and harder than you were used to, as it was prepared for the hockey team’s game later that weekend.

A rookie mistake, honestly. One that you’ve been kicking yourself over up until this very moment. Well, if you could kick with your injured leg, that is, you’d be doing just that.

You grind your teeth as a memory rises to the forefront of your mind. Your coach’s voice rings in your head, shrill and reprimanding. Why would you take such foolish chances? You need to get your head in your sport or you’re never going to make it on the Olympic team, let alone the University team.

Shame presses down on you, and your eyes prick at the criticism you should be used to by now. Your private coach from your time before Velaris University, Amarantha, had been very creative with her insults, always coming up with comments worse and harsher to cut down any semblance of confidence you had in your sport.

You bet she’s thrilled that you won’t be back in her presence until you’re healed enough. If you heal enough to relearn the very trick that took you out of the running for the Olympic team in the first place.

It must be a thing, coaches insulting their prodigies. You glance at Azriel from the corner of your eye and wonder if his coach is the same way. If Rhys is brutal with his teammates.

And you hate losing. It was Azriel who you wished forgotten about the bet you’d so stupidly agreed to, but here he is, wearing the same look that got you into this position in the first place.

You take your time studying him as you mull over how to get out of this. Azriel’s broad shoulders take up the space of two people, and his deep, dark hair falls over his brow, growing out into the perfect flow all the players seem to be sporting right now. You wonder if it’s superstition or they actually like the look. His thick lashes sweep as he bats them, and your cheeks take on a pink hue as he pretends to preen under your attention.

“Look,” he all but sighs, giving up his act. He leans back, reaching over to grab something out of sight. When Azriel rightens himself, he holds a pair of figure skates, a sheepish smile on his face. The apples of his cheeks mottle with pink. “I got myself figure skates, so we can both look like fools out there. Together.”

Fuck. The sentiment makes your throat tighten. He doesn’t have to be so damn thoughtful, you’re hardly even friends for Mother’s sake.

“Fine,” you manage when you can speak again. You plop onto the bench beside him. Your knee throbs dully in protest, but it’s nothing you haven’t been able to smother before. You’ve worked through worse conditions than hockey prepped ice, have skated in casts and aches so deep you weren’t sure you’d be able to compete at all if it weren’t for your raw love for the sport and your brutal stubbornness, holding yourself to the highest of standards.

And it’s not like you’re going to be doing your usual tricks. No, that’s all Azriel. All you have to manage is a few forward spirals, twizzles, and perhaps an axel just to show off a little, because there’s no way he’ll be able to recreate all of that in one go.

You just hope your knee stays steady for a few more hours.

The both of you lace your shoes in silence. The hockey skates are so different from your figure skates, you note. The blade is much thicker than you’re used to, more curved too. The boots are shorter, and you grimace at the lack of ankle support.

Not to mention you’re not entirely sure how well you’ll be able to stop without your toe pick.

Azriel leads you to the ice. You step on tentatively, giving the new skates a test. They have a lot more give than you’re used to. They’re not as snug, but easy enough to navigate. Muscle memory kicks in and after a few sluggish runs up and down the ice, you think you’ve gotten the hang of it.

The rest of this bet should be a breeze, especially compared to how Azriel is faring.

His face is contorted with a concentrated frown. He looks stiff as a fucking board, which make you giggle and him complain about. “How the hell do you wear these things? I can barely even move my ankles!”

“Practice makes perfect, young Padawon,” you tease, testing how best to shift your weight on the new blades. The pressure on your knee isn’t terrible, thanks to the looseness of the hockey skates.

“Yeah, yeah,” Azriel waves you off. He trails behind you at a slower rate, focused on getting used to the stiffness of the figure skates on his feet. “Just wait until we scrimmage.”

Ugh, no thanks. This is just perfect for you, the both of you out on the open ice, all alone. You don’t want to ruin this peaceful bliss by bringing your competitive personalities into it.

“I knew if we raced under different conditions I’d have won!” You exclaim, zipping past Azriel again, showing off. He glares playfully, but you’re much too busy admiring your skates to notice the way he’s tucked his lip between his teeth, hiding a satisfied grin.

His toe pick digs into the ice, grinding down as he gets a feeling for the foreign piece, but his eyes stay glued on you.

“Ready for a stick and gloves already, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know,” you throw a smirk back in his direction, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking a brow. “You ready for twizzling?”

“Twizzlers?”

You roll your eyes at his lame joke, but your heart still skips at his wry smile. It’s more than cute. You push off your blade, moving closer to him.

Which is fine, until you try to use your toe pick to stop, only for the realization to hit that there isn’t one on these skates.

You go barreling into Azriel, who catches you in his arms. Your motion throws him off balance and before you even have the chance to squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself, you’re both falling to the ice.

Azriel hits with a grunt that reverberates through your bones. You’d think that Azriel breaking your landing would be less painful than it is, but with the way the muscle is packed on his body, he’s just as hard as the ice that’s no longer beneath your feet.

“Sorry,” you cringe. It comes out breathless and embarrassment flushes your cheeks, but you’re frozen to your spot and all too aware of how his large, warm hands are wrapped firmly around your waist.

“No worries.” Your lashes flutter as his breathy whisper caresses your face. He’s probably just winded, that’s why he sounds like that. Yes, that’s exactly what it is. “Didn’t think to remind you how to stop.”

“I know how to stop,” you argue, but there’s none of your usual fire tainting the words. You can’t even muster one of your famous glares that you reserve for the normally broody hockey player. You break eye contact as the humiliation begins creeping in. You scratch your nail distractedly down the waffled fabric of his olive colored henley. “I just…forgot, I guess.”

The hitching of his breath in his chest shifts your body and you jolt, the situation slamming into you like a truck.

You scramble off Azriel, grimacing at the sound of your blades clinking against his. His grip loosens, hands falling away as you slip to the ice beside him.

You shoot to your knees, then not-so-carefully climb to your feet. Azriel holds his hands out from where he’s still lying on the ground, like he’s more than ready to catch you again should you fall.

You’re positive the heat of your cheeks could melt the entire arena’s ice right now. You need to get the fuck out of here before you embarrass yourself further. You need to never show your face around here again. You’ve already transferred schools once, what’s one more time?

Azriel calls your name, but you hardly hear him over your racing thoughts. If the sheer embarrassment wasn’t enough, Coach Weaver’s voice now fills the rest of your head, screeching about your recklessness and how you could’ve injured yourself—

He’s quicker than you thought, or you’ve been trapped in your mortified headspace for too long because Azriel’s on his feet, towering over you and pulling you into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” your voice trembles and his hands tighten around you. He lets you bury your face into his chest and pretends not to notice the tears dampening the fabric of his shirt. You’re fucking trembling, and his heart is pounding just as hard.

This is all his fault.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breathe,” he tries to console. He looks around frantically, like one of the sports therapist students or coaches might be walking past the rinks this late at night. There’s no soul in the building besides the both of you, everyone resting for their busy weekends of competitions and away hockey games. “Please.”

You focus on his words, how he guides you, three seconds in, three seconds out. You focus on the soothing patterns he’s drawing down your back, focus on the beating of his heart and latch onto his scent: night-chilled mist and cedar.

“Sorry,” you croak when you finally manage to calm yourself and slide a step back. Your gaze sits pointedly on the ice. You don’t want him to see you like this, a woman who’s about to fucking crumble.

“Don’t be,” Azriel says softly. His hand finds your face, and as much as you don’t want him to, he lifts your chin. You don’t fight it, emotionally exhausted. You should have asked for a raincheck, but you can admit to the fact that Azriel’s gentle touch is a comfort that you can’t help but lean into.

Sad, hazel eyes meet yours. They’re more golden brown than green, a forest of hues backlit by a burst of gold. Your breath hitches as he drags a thumb softly across your lips. They part, even though you don’t mean them to, and the whisper of breath that leaves you passes over his hand, crawls up his arm, and sends shivers down his spine.

“You okay there, sweetheart?”

You’re not sure you can hold yourself together enough to answer his question without completely melting into a puddle at his feet.

Your silence must be answer enough. Azriel takes both of your hands in his own and guides you back toward the bench where you left your shoes. His grip is reassuring, and you’re so tired that you don’t even have it in yourself to sling a witty remark his way.

For what might be the first time in your life, you allow yourself to be taken care of.

You can’t even muster a chuckle at the way he stumbles over the toe pick on his way off the ice, or the way you’re waddling in these skates. You feel anything but graceful and strong right now, but with Azriel’s hand in yours, it’s not as off-putting as you feared it might be.

“Sit,” he says, keeping his fingers clasped around yours as you heed his command. It brings you eye-level to his hands, puckered and pink and scarred to hell. They’re beautiful in every way. He embraces his story, and it’s an incredible strength, one you’re much too terrified of attempting to recreate.

“Azriel, no,” you protest, jolting forward when he lowers himself to his knees before you. You plant your hands on his shoulders, ready to force him away because you’re more than capable of taking your own skates off.

He catches your wrists, and you didn’t think his eyes could soften any more, but they do, and you melt. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of this for you.”

You try to swallow past the knot in your throat to thank him but are unable to. Instead, you nod and reluctantly sit back.

Azriel’s gentle with his movements, like you’re a wild doe that he’s helping free from a snare. He unties the tight knots, and your heart pinches when he struggles for a moment. You wouldn’t notice if you weren’t watching so intently, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Like he knows you need to see this.

You carefully keep your mind from wandering into how good he looks like this before you.

He slips the first skate off, and you stretch your toes. It’s a reflex. Azriel smiles, peeking up at you just in time to catch your blush. His gaze ducks away before you become embarrassed, setting your foot down and holding your other ankle, lifting to get to work.

You hiss softly at the ache in your knee.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Concern laces his voice, and you’re quick to reassure him.

“No, no,” you cringe a little at the lingering sting. “It’s nothing.”

“Sweetheart.” Azriel says sternly. Seriously. “That reaction wasn’t nothing. What’s wrong?”

You sigh, defeated in more ways than one. You don’t want to admit that the injury that threw your entire career off-kilter is acting up again. You’d rather not have anyone know.

Perhaps Azriel is different. Or, maybe he’s forcing you, because the gold in his eyes is intense, pinning you to your spot. His mouth is set in a straight, firm line. He looks like he means fucking business.

You avert your gaze. You’ve never admitted defeat like this, but if Azriel can wear his scars so proudly, maybe you can too.

“I tore my ACL a few months ago.” You admit, sniffling. You can feel the shock in Azriel’s gaze, but you refuse to look him in the eye. He’s the first person at this school outside of your coach who’s hearing it. You’ve never been so vulnerable, especially with someone you hardly know. You press on nonetheless. “It’s been fine up until now.” A white lie. “But it’s been a little sore since I started practicing my jumps again.”

“How many months is ‘a few’?” He questions, and he’s not going to like the answer, so you opt for brushing over it.

“I’ll go back to seeing my therapist,” you offer instead, but even you’re not too sure how much truth your words hold.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Azriel says, and you don’t want his sympathy, but you’re too exhausted for your usual anger to stir to life. “You need to take care of yourself, before it gets any worse.”

His sentiment has your nose stinging, eyes prickling once again. What the fuck is wrong with you these days? Get it together, girl. You can cry in your own room, not in front of the hot boy who’s helping you with your godsdamned shoes.

You drag your gaze back to his. “I will.” You think.

He studies you for a moment before nodding, accepting your answer whether he believes it or not. You don’t have it in yourself to care right now. No, you just want to be back in the safety of your dorm.

Azriel is even more careful removing this skate and helping you slip into your shoes. He makes quick work of his own, and while his head is down, you admire his stature. Broad shoulders and chest that tapers into a tight waist, an ass for days.

You’re not done drooling over him when he stands, offering you a hand.

You slip your palm into his, ignoring the electricity that zips down your arm. You’re hyperaware of him by your side, and it’s only when he’s absolutely sure that you’re steady on your feet that he drops your hand.

You try not to feel too disappointed at the loss.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” Azriel offers, and you trail him from the arena, your heart feeling a bit fuller with the nickname.

_________________________________________

Azriel Hockey!AU Tags:

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @i-am-infinite @feeriqueivre @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke @nyxbranwenn @dee-writes-smut @konaanaria13

[lovebugism]

steve request for adjusting back to normality with him after the upside down ends? however much u wanna write 🤭🤍🤍 ur writing is gorgeous btw

ty angel! hope you like it!! — steve helps his agoraphobic gf leave the house for the first time since the world ended (established relationship, hurt/comfort, cw for mentions of agoraphobia | 1.5k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

You sit on the stairwell and tie your shoes, trying desperately to ignore the trembling of your anxious fingers. The thin laces threaten to slip from your tremoring hands as you knot one loop into the other. You couldn’t hide from your worry if you tried.

Steve’s heavy footsteps sound behind you in a steady, even rhythm as he walks down the stairs. You can hear the dull clapping of the boy patting his pockets to ensure his keys and wallet haven’t yet fallen from them. You know he’ll do exactly that another ten times before you step foot out of the house. He’s just as anxious as you are these days.

“Almost ready?” he says, huffing, though a smile is evident in his voice.

You nod to yourself and make careful work of fastening the laces. “Mhm,” you hum.

“Did you make sure to pack those Ants on a Log things? ‘Cause Dustin’ll kill me if we don’t bring ‘em,” Steve frets, for the second or third time that morning. He stills on the step just behind you and crosses a pair of golden arms over his chest. “Because, you know, he’s the only kid in America who actually likes celery.”

You tilt your chin to look up at him, smiling despite the fear pinching your chest. “Everything’s in the basket, Stevie.”

“Including the—”

“Yes, including the drinks. And the sandwiches. It’s all in the fridge,” you finish for him. “And the blanket’s in the car, so… Everything’s ready.”

Steve’s chest deflates with a distant sigh of relief. He’s been so used to doing everything on his own — carrying the load of that burden entirely by himself — that he forgot what it meant to have someone else to lean on.

“God, I’m so in love with you,” he murmurs fondly, mostly to himself, as he bends at the waist to kiss your hair. The plush of his lips brush your temple in a warm touch you lean instinctively into. 

With a wide hand on your shoulder, Steve feels for the first time how tense you are. All rigid, muscles taut, like cradling a rock in his palm. You’ve kept a brave face for him all day, but there’s only so much hiding you can do.

“You’re still okay with this?” he wonders aloud as he stands to full height again. 

His scruffy face is all twisted with concern, but you’re not looking at him to see it. You tie your right sneaker with a pair of graceless hands, where you seem to hold most of your anxiety, and scoff at the silly question. “Am I okay with the… picnic?” you echo.

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, lips jutted, as he walks past you down the steps. He turns and leans against the railing, trying hard to be casual. “‘Cause, you know, if you weren’t, we could just have it in the backyard or something. Make all the little shits come here.”

It takes you a moment too long to catch his meaning.

Sometimes you forget that you haven’t left the house all year. You’ve fallen into such a routine here, at Steve’s house (which you’ve come to see as your own), that you’ve forgotten there’s a whole world outside of it. A whole world you shut yourself out of after it nearly ended — after it chewed you up and spat you out again.

You tell yourself that you survived. You tell yourself that you lived in spite of the unfavorable odds. But sometimes, when you feel like shards of flesh and bones instead of a real-life human being, you wonder if you’re alive at all.

“I’m good, Steve,” you assure despite the waver in your voice. Your hands fumble with the laces, and you have to start all over again. “It’s just the park, babe. I can make it to the park.”

Steve nods in response, raking an anxious hand through his hair. He swallows down any attempts to remind you that you’ve barely made it out of the garage, let alone to the park.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s a crime to be this pale in the middle of July, anyway,” you joke with a forced laugh. 

The only time you really see the sun is when you’re sitting out on the patio — sipping at your morning coffee or watching Steve languish in the pool. You hardly last more than an hour, though, before a plane rumbles overhead or a car engine thunders too loudly. That’s all it takes for everything to come rushing back to you. The monsters, the soldiers, the blood. Then you lock yourself away all over again.

You hope this time is different.

Steve nods again, always hopeful, if only for your sake.

“Okay. Just… Just making sure, you know?” he trails off, then scrunches his nose. “Should we have a codeword, anyway? Like, for when the kids annoy the shit outta me, and I wanna get the hell outta there?”

You squint to yourself, pretending to ponder the question, as you rise from the stairs. You take a few steps downward until you’re standing just ahead of Steve — a few inches taller than him now. 

“How about… Get me the hell outta here?” you offer with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

A wide, pink grin blossoms on his mouth. “That’s perfect, actually,” Steve muses sarcastically, then meets you halfway when you lean down to kiss him. 

It’s a chaste and very innocuous peck that tastes faintly of Steve’s mouthwash and the peanut butter you licked from the spoon after making Dustin’s Ants on a Log. 

Despite its fleeting nature, you hang onto the simple kiss your entire way through the front door.

The first step out of the house is the hardest. 

You struggle to feel the ground beneath your feet as your mind threatens to wander. Thoughts of death plague your mind despite your attempts to push them away — roaring demogorgons, exploding guns, screaming teenagers. You have to fight the urge to cover your ears when a helicopter whizzes overhead, hidden somewhere in the clouds but sounding much closer than that.  

Steve holds your hand the entire way. “Almost there,” you hear him mumbling beneath the heartbeat woosh, woosh, wooshing in your ears. Your eyes squeeze shut. He leads you to the car and squeezes your hand. “You’re doing amazin’, babe. Just a couple more steps.”

You’re at the car in five seconds flat, though it had felt like five minutes at the time — and took approximately five years off your life. You feel eons better when you’re tucked into the passenger seat of Steve’s 733i. You feel more grounded there — with the tires against the asphalt, and Steve’s hand on your thigh, and the radio cranked all the way up.

You’re still a shaking mess when you get to the park, but the kids are a good enough distraction. 

You opt to busy your anxious hands with the picnic — handing out food, protecting drinks, and ensuring the emptying basket doesn’t blow away. You sit in the shade in the center of Steve’s quilt as leaves rustle in the warm breeze, allowing bits of summer sun to peek through and glitter on your skin. 

You keep a watchful eye on the kids around you as they scatter mindlessly about, making sure no one ventures far enough where you can’t see them. Steve yells at them for it so you don’t have to — shouts at Max and El for getting too close to the tree line while he tosses a ball to Lucas. 

He’s slowly mastering the art of throwing with his left hand. He hasn’t been able to lift his right one over his head since Starcourt. There’s a persistent ache in his shoulder he hasn’t been able to get rid of.

He walks over to you when the distance grows too much to bear, twisting his arm with a screwed-up face as he tries to find the root of the pain. “Whaddaya got for me, sweet thing?” he asks with a lopsided smile.

You reach into the basket beside you and pull out the last sandwich of the bunch, which you kept aside especially for him, wrapped neatly in plastic.

You hiss playfully through your teeth, then squint faux apologetically up at him. “All that’s left is tomato-avocado…” you joke, feigning horror.

Steve’s face twists. “Ugh. Seriously?” he huffs in disappointment.

“No,” you hum in response, smiling as you pass him his favorite sandwich. “Here you go.”

It’s a simple turkey, ham, and bacon number with all the fixings, but he particularly likes how you make it. (You argue that it can’t taste any better than a diner-made sandwich, but Steve always insists otherwise.) 

Your fingers brush when it takes it from you. Steve finds it difficult not to melt for you entirely, and not just because of the sweltering summer heat. 

He’s spent half of his life believing that no one ever gave him a passing thought — or that, at the very least, he was only ever an afterthought. But you remind him every day that he’s so much more than the nothing he often sees himself as. You remind him, through silly picnics and sandwiches made with love, what it means to be truly cared for.

“I love you,” Steve hums quietly, adoration melting in his honey eyes. “You know that?”

You nod once, hiding a smile as you squint one eye from the beaming sun. “I know.”

[xannsin]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐃 ᯓ★ 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐙

précis: you and nicholas fell apart, the two of you simply wanted different things. months later, you’re sure about wanting one thing in common.

a/n: hey! i’m back, i’m very sorry for my absence, i do have a ton of responsibilities and unfortunately took a lengthy break but i’m working on a ton of writes for all of you!

warning: +18, minors dni, penetrative sex, creampie, sexual praise, overstimulation, unprotected sex

enjoy!

The relationship between you and Nicholas is strained.

When you were together in your early twenties, it felt like everything was possible. Until it wasn’t. You wanted the whole picture: house, rings, maybe a kid someday. Nicholas? He wanted out. Out of your tiny apartment. Out of your careful plans. Out into the world where he could be whoever the hell he wanted. And he got it. That bastard climbed the ladder so fast it was dizzying.

The breakup wasn’t even dramatic. Just him sitting at the edge of the bed, running his stupid hands through his stupid messy hair, sighing like it physically hurt him to talk.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he’d said, his voice low but clear, like it had already been rehearsed.

You stared at him, dumbfounded, because what the actual fuck. “Do what?”

“Play house.” He looked up then, those half-lidded brown eyes unreadable, his jaw locked tight. “You deserve someone who… I don’t know. Gives a shit about marriage and brunch and—whatever. That’s not me.”

And that was it. He left you like that—angry, confused, and clutching onto your shared dreams like a sucker.

Months later, you were doing fine. Or fine enough. Until the call came. A sleek-sounding assistant from some hotel agency left a voicemail, sweetly confirming your reservation for the weekend. Which was hilarious because you didn’t make one.

Except you had. Well, Nicholas had. Back when you were together. It was supposed to be this grand romantic getaway, but he’d apparently forgotten to cancel it. You debated ignoring it. But curiosity is a real bitch, and the idea of lounging in a fancy-ass suite alone? Tempting.

You didn’t expect to see him there. Which is why, when the elevator doors opened to reveal Nicholas Chavez—tan skin, broad everything, and wearing a wrinkled t-shirt like it was designer—you screamed. Not in terror, but pure, unfiltered what the fuck.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you yelled, wide-eyed, already regretting every life choice that led you to this moment.

He stared at you like you were the weird one, his eyebrows lifting just a fraction. “What am I doing here? This was my plan!” His voice was still annoyingly calm, with that slight Cuban lilt that came out when he was caught off guard.

“Your plan?” You jabbed a finger at his chest—hard. “Your dumbass forgot to cancel this, so they called me!”

He blinked, slowly, because of course he was the kind of guy who could take a verbal beatdown without flinching. “Fuck,” he muttered finally, rubbing the back of his neck.

And just like that, the tension cracked. You both laughed, loud and stupid, because it was ridiculous. You hated him, but also… you didn’t. Because beneath the stoic, sarcastic exterior was the same guy who once wanted to take you here. Maybe just for a moment, you could remember that. Or maybe you’d just spend the weekend screaming at each other. Either way, it was already too late to back out.

The laughter died off, but the awkwardness lingered like a bad smell. You couldn’t quite figure out what to do next. Storm past him? Push him out of the elevator? Or just turn back and get the hell out of there? Nicholas stood there, leaning casually against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest like he had all the time in the world. His half-lidded eyes scanned your face—always calculating, always trying to figure out what move you were going to make before you even knew yourself.

“So,” he said finally, voice low and calm, “you gonna stand there all day, or are you coming in?”

You blinked. “Coming in? Are you serious right now?”

He shrugged, that lazy smirk creeping onto his annoyingly perfect face. “Look, I’m not going to fight you for the room. I forgot to cancel it. That’s on me. But if you’re here, you might as well enjoy it.”

“What a gentleman,” you muttered, brushing past him into the suite.

The place was ridiculous. Plush carpets, floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city that looked like it belonged in a movie. And the bed? Huge. Like, offensively huge. Of course Nicholas would have booked a place like this. He always had a knack for things that looked effortless but cost a fortune.

“You seriously came here alone?” you asked, turning to face him.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter now, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone. He wasn’t looking at you, just scrolling through his screen like he couldn’t be bothered. “Yeah. Why?”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Because this was supposed to be a romantic trip. What were you gonna do? Have a candlelit dinner for one?”

He finally looked up, his expression flat. “I don’t see the point in wasting a good reservation just because we broke up.”

“Jesus, Nick.” You shook your head, dropping your bag onto the nearest chair. “You’re unreal.”

“Thanks,” he said, deadpan, before tossing his phone onto the counter and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “Want one?”

You glared at him. “What I want is to not be stuck in a luxury hotel suite with my ex-boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well,” he cracked the cap off his water and took a swig, “life’s full of disappointments.”

You hated him. You really did. Or at least you wanted to. But then he went and did that thing—where his voice softened, just a fraction, and his eyes, half-lidded and calm, gave you that unreadable look that always made your stomach flip.

“Look,” he said, leaning against the counter, his tone quieter now. “We can fight all weekend if you want. Or we can just… not. Your call.”

You wanted to fight. God, you wanted to yell at him, to drag up every shitty thing he ever did, every late-night argument, every time he’d brushed you off with that maddening stoicism. But standing there, looking at him—broad shoulders, messy hair, tired eyes—you realized you didn’t have the energy to.

“Fine,” you muttered. “Truce.”

“Truce,” he echoed, raising his water bottle in a mock toast.

The first few hours were… weird. You avoided each other, mostly. You hung out in the living room while he stayed in the bedroom, and for a while, it almost felt like you weren’t sharing the space at all. But, of course, that didn’t last.

It was late—almost midnight—when you wandered into the kitchen for a snack and found Nicholas sitting at the counter, scrolling through his phone again. He looked up when you walked in, his brown eyes sharp even in the low light.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and rough, like he hadn’t spoken in hours.

You shrugged, opening the fridge. “Too quiet.”

He chuckled softly—just a huff of air through his nose. “Ironic, coming from you.”

“Shut up,” you shot back, grabbing a bottle of wine and holding it up. “Want some?”

He tilted his head, considering. “Sure. Why not.”

You didn’t expect it, but the two of you ended up sitting on the floor of the suite, leaning against the couch, passing the bottle back and forth like a couple of college kids. And for the first time in months, it didn’t feel strained. It felt… easy.

“Do you ever think about it?” you asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

He turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. “Think about what?”

“Us,” you said, waving the bottle vaguely. “What happened. Why it went to shit.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the floor, his jaw tightening. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think about it.”

“And?”

He let out a long breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “And… I don’t know. Maybe I fucked up. Or maybe we just wanted different things.”

You frowned, staring at him. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”

He met your gaze then, his brown eyes soft but guarded. “What do you want me to say? That I regret it? That I wish I’d stayed? I don’t know if I do. But I know I didn’t handle it right. And I know I hurt you. For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t much. But it was something. And for now, that was enough.

The next few days unfolded like an awkward dance neither of you really wanted to be a part of, but here you were, stuck in this stupid hotel suite, both pretending it wasn’t all too familiar. The truce held, but it was fragile. There was an air of tension that lingered in every room, especially when the two of you were alone. Every glance was a little too long, every word a little too sharp, and yet neither of you could walk away from it. There was an undeniable pull, like the universe was mocking you for still being tied to each other in some way.

One night, after an uncomfortable dinner in the hotel’s overpriced restaurant, you found yourself back in the suite. Nicholas was sprawled on the couch, his arms thrown behind his head, casually flipping through channels like you didn’t just have a conversation that felt like two strangers trying to fill the empty space between them. You, on the other hand, were too wound up, pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city lights twinkled below, casting a faint glow that made the whole room feel surreal.

“You’re gonna wear a hole in the carpet if you keep pacing like that,” Nicholas muttered, not even looking at you. His voice was as disinterested as ever, but you could hear that hint of amusement in his tone, like he enjoyed getting under your skin.

You shot him a glance, your eyes narrowing. “I’m thinking, alright? Can’t I think without you making sarcastic comments?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, the sarcasm oozing from every word. “I’ll stop. Wouldn’t want to ruin your moment of clarity.”

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to snap back. Instead, you took a deep breath, walking to the other side of the room and standing still for a second. “Why are you here?” You asked it before you could stop yourself, and the question hung in the air, heavier than it should have been.

Nicholas didn’t flinch, just let out a sigh, his eyes flicking to you briefly. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just stared at you like he was sizing you up. His lips twisted into that usual smirk, but this time it wasn’t quite as mocking. There was something else in it—something real, maybe even vulnerable, but he hid it behind his usual stoic expression.

“Why do you think I’m here?” His voice was quieter now, not the usual sarcasm laced with a challenge.

Your stomach flipped. You hated how easily he could do that to you—make you feel like he was reading you from the inside out, even when he said nothing. “I don’t know,” you muttered, crossing your arms, trying to look indifferent. “I guess I thought you didn’t give a shit about me anymore.”

Nicholas sat up then, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the TV. “I never said that.” His voice was low, serious, and when you looked at him again, he was closer. Closer than before, but it wasn’t an invitation to fight. It was something else.

“Look, we… we fucked this up, okay?” he said, his eyes softening just enough that you could see the regret hidden under that layer of arrogance. “I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but I didn’t want to lose you, either.”

You swallowed hard, unable to speak, because for all his quiet moments and sarcastic jabs, that admission hit you harder than you wanted it to. “Don’t,” you whispered, the words coming out hoarse. “Just don’t… make it worse.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and you both stood there, inches apart but still worlds away. Then, in a rare moment of self-awareness, Nicholas moved slowly, his hand reaching out as if to make sure you wouldn’t pull away.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t some sudden, passionate moment where everything exploded. No, it was slow, careful, as if he was waiting for you to pull back, to shove him away, to tell him to fuck off. But you didn’t. Instead, you stood there, letting his lips press softly against yours, a little tentative at first. His lips were warm, surprisingly soft, and for a second, you forgot how much you hated him. Or maybe you didn’t hate him. Maybe, in that moment, it was just two people who couldn’t figure it out, but still needed each other.

When he pulled away, it was barely an inch, his breath mingling with yours. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the softness of his hand still resting on your arm, the warmth of his body so close.

“Still mad at me?” he asked quietly, his voice rougher now, like the moment had undone something in him.

You didn’t answer immediately, just looked at him—his messy brown hair falling over his forehead, his sharp jawline, and those goddamn brown eyes that always seemed to see right through you. You wanted to hate him for making it so hard, for fucking up so many times. But you couldn’t. Not when he was here, looking at you like maybe he was finally seeing you for the first time in a long time.

“No,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But you’re still a fucking asshole.”

He smirked at that, and it felt like a little bit of the tension between you two broke, just enough to let you both breathe. “I’ll take it,” he said, leaning in again, but this time it was different. There was no hesitation. No more apologies. It was just you and him, in this stupid hotel room, with no answers but maybe something else—something neither of you could deny anymore.

And when his lips met yours again, it wasn’t slow this time. It wasn’t careful. It was urgent, real, like neither of you knew what the hell you were doing but were too tired to care anymore.

“This okay?” He murmured against your lips, his hands gently tangling in your hair. “Mhm,” You whine quietly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he picked you up. He carried you to that behemoth of a bed and set you down before getting on top of you, careful not to smush you. “You sure you’re okay with this.” He says, asking, but confirming with statement at the same time. You nod in response, and he gently continues, grabbing your jaw, moving your head upwards to pepper kisses on your neck.

Your body instinctively responds, your arms wrapping around him as you let out the softest, faintest moans at the sensations on your neck. You hear that familiar unzip of his jeans that you so desperately missed. You work at taking off yours, shimmying slightly out of your tight jeans before discarding the fabric onto the floor. You do the same with your blouse.

You watch as Nicholas was only in boxers, having already taken off his jeans and shirt. You could see the tent in his boxers, basically throbbing for escape from the tight fabric. You gently reach out, your hand hesitant, but it settled on the thick bulge. Nicholas’ body went taut, his hands steadying himself on both sides of your head. “You okay?” You whispered, your hands gently working his bulge. He just nodded quickly before swallowing thickly, his eyes closing as your hand went lower, cupping his clothed sac. He exhaled softly, his bottom lip twitching slightly with the effort of holding back a soft moan.

Your hand moved up, falling onto the hem of his boxers. You looked up at him, silently asking for permission. He opened his eyes before looking down at you through half-lidded eyes before nodding a soft yes.

You gently peel his boxers down, his dick jumping out and immediately slapping against your bare thigh. He looked down in between your bodies, and so did you. You hadn’t seen his bare body in a while. His length was really girthy, at least 10 inches long, veiny, mushroom-tipped, throbbing, and aching to be inside of you. His tip wept pre-cum, it needed its release. Well — he did.

He moved your panties to the side of your thigh with his thumb, looking down at your bare, leaking pussy. He looked up at you before slowly grinning, “You’re beautiful.” You shake your head modestly, “Sure.” He rolls his eyes at your humility, “Just accept the damn compliment.”

His thumb gently touched your little bundle of nerves, gently rubbing it in slow circled, eliciting a small whimper from you. He knew how to make you twitch. Whimper. Whine. Shake. Cum. Your legs trembled as he worked your clit with his fingers, his middle finger finding your neglected, small hole. “Feels like it shrunk. You haven’t had sex in a while, have you?”

“Not since you, no.” You muttered through strained breaths, and pleasured winces. “Mm.” He hummed softly, adding more pressure, but not enough. On purpose. You were whimpering needily, your whines being more pleading than they needed to. He spoke after a moment, “Don’t worry, gonna get what you want.”

“Eventually.”

You frowned slightly, but you were too breathless to protest. You whined as he pulled his hand away, but he tutted softly. “Patience, pretty girl.”

He reached down, his hand finding his throbbing cock. He pulled you closer to him with his other hand, comfortably settling himself in between your legs. “Comfy?” He asked, and you nodded in response. He slowly stroked his tip along your slit, eliciting a gasp from you. He did that almost-grin, half-lidded eye combination that made your stomach flutter. He kept his dick positioned correctly with his right hand, and he was gently holding you down, steadying you, with his left. “I’m gonna start slow.” He muttered breathily.

“Okay,” You gasped, mentally preparing yourself for the stretch you’re about to feel. You hadn’t felt him inside of you for months, so this was probably going to hurt a bi—

“Shit…”

You winced quietly as you felt his thick tip slide inside of your pussy, the sensation overwhelming. You writhed under him, as if trying to get away, but you really didn’t want to get away. It was just hard to take it. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here,” Nicholas lulled, continuing to slowly ease himself inside of your pussy. His goal was to be buried to the hilt inside of you, and he was going to achieve that.

He began thrusting into you with more confidence, yet purposefully making them sloppy and slightly uncoordinated. His sole objective was making you feel good. And he was doing a damn good job at it. You were practically drooling at this point, his shaft sliding in and out of your wet cunt at an almost rapid pace. He was forcing himself to fit. He hit spots that were making you cry out in pleasure, gasping for air. “Shh, I got you, I got you,” He whispered in between gasps, his balls smacking against your ass with every thrust he made.

The bed didn’t creak once, you’ll give it that. It was a sturdy ass bed. Nicholas was pounding into you by now, working on hitting those spots that made you feel good. Your tiny hole stretches so beautifully as his thick shaft slides in and out, the small, subtle bulge just below your stomach showing just how far he reaches inside of you. His fingers traced circles over your hip, his own hips working on pumping his dick in and out of you. But they were already stuttering.

The room filled with the smell of sex, skin smacking against skin, and the sheets shifting under weight.

You missed those small, subtle whimpers Nicholas made when he was close. They felt like memories you never had the opportunity to make reality more than just a few times. You’re glad you’re reliving it — not just the sex, but what lies deeper. The pure intimacy behind it, what sex really expresses between you both. Being loved again feels… good. If not, great.

Maybe great is an understatement too.

Nicholas huffs heavily as he feels your pussy gripping his cock like a vice, contracting rapidly. He slows down because he can sense the impending release on not just him, but you too. You gasped heavily as you felt your release. Nicholas’ hips stuttered, your legs trembled, and there it was.

Nicholas’ hot seed poured inside of you, not letting any go to waste. He weakly pulled out, sighing softly. He collapsed next to you on the bed, the two of you panting. He slung his arm around your waist before pulling you closer, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Y’know,” You start, still catching your breath, “I’m glad this happened. Us reuniting unexpectedly all because you forgot to cancel a ticket.”

“Huh? Oh. No, I knew you’d come.” Nicholas said after a beat flatly, completely serious.

Well then.

[madelynraemunson]

NEED…MORE…EX-HUSBAND!EDDIE…I AM FERAL AND FOAMING AT THE MOUTH PLEASE BLESS US MORE I’M BEGGING

IT’S ANGST O’CLOCK!!!

𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠)

ex husband! eddie x fem!reader

“all that still matters is ‘love ever after’ — after the life we’ve been through” — life after you // daughtry

WC: ~950 words

3AM. The witching hour.

The air smells of twilight musk and marinating dew. It's pitch black all around you, the nearest gas station being an agonizing 1.3 miles away. You're also 10 miles from Hawkins, pulled over in nothing but platform heels, a black mini dress, and expired pepper spray in your purse. To make matters worse, the only friends up who seem to be up at this hour are hungry bears and obnoxious, chirping crickets. And skinwalkers if you're where you think you are.

A horrible ending to a girls night out. Just what you needed.

Alone and afraid, you decide to call the number one person on speed dial, whose gradual distaste towards you renders itself very evident from the moment he answers the phone.

"What?! I'm trying to sleep."

"Eds." you whimper into the phone. "I need you."

There's a long pause in response to your petrified sobs, followed by the clicking noise of a phone keyboard before you hear cursing and the frantic ruffling of sheets.

"I’ll be there."

"Well?"

You watch as Eddie crinkles his forehead in concentration, examining your car while his soot-tainted hands explore every crevice of your hood. Routine maintenance has never been as issue because you've always had a personal mechanic at your feet. But since the divorce, you've gotten pretty bad about it. Otherwise, the you and Eddie wouldn't be stuck in this situation. Obviously.

"Weeelp." Eddie sighs, stretching out every bit of the syllable. He slams the hood shut. "She's just about blown out. You're lucky that thing didn't overheat too much with you in it."

You've prided yourself in not needing a man to change your tires, wiper fluid, OR oil nowadays. But in the midst of your journey towards self love and independence, you somehow forgot that your car could also overheat.

"Oh..”

You try not to watch intently as Eddie cleans his hands off with his hanky, the one he keeps neatly tucked into the back pocket of his flattering dark, denim jeans. Your eyes then trail towards his leather jacket, which housed his broad shoulders and delicious waist so nicely, you would've thought it had been tailored just for him. And you could just about fall right into him when he angles his torso towards you, his sculpted jawline glistening in the moonlight — but nearly not as glistening as those gorgeous chocolate eyes, the ones he used to his advantage during your marriage to get you to forgive him for whatever mistake he seemed to make that week. Before you could fawn any further, Eddie snaps you back to reality.

"When was the last time you put some coolant in this thing?"

"Some what?"

"You keep Prestone at the house?" Eddie pesters. "Antifreeze? Peak?"

Cheeks reddening, you shake your head. "No.”

"You get this thing examined often?"

“Not unless you do it," is what you shamefully admit. “For the most part…”

Eddie's face scrunches out of frustration. He knew this would happen.

"God, I hate when you do shit like this," he snaps. "For all I know your engine light could've been on for weeks."

"But it wasn't." you mutter softly. You're already scared. This is the last thing you need.

"You know your car in particular needs to be serviced every half year?" Eddie mutters. "Oil changes, tire rotations. Your break pads have also seen better days. Which is concerning."

"Ok.”

"And how many times do I have to say you gotta pay attention to this fucking radiator?!" Eddie hisses, slapping at the hood again with his open palm. You shudder at the loud *THUNK* noise that echoes across the woods. "We wouldn't be out here in 3AM if you had just taken proactive measures.”

"Stop YELLING at me!" you whine, a piece of your inner child spewing outwards to combat Eddie's belligerent word vomit.

"I'm not yelling." Eddie firmly insists.

He turns his back to you and starts towards your car again.

"Yes, you are, you always do." you croak miserably, balling your fists up in frustration. “You always do Eddie, and I'm sick of it! You always want to be right, and you always kick me when I'm already down to-"

“Okay, okay, okay." Eddie hushes you. He runs a frantic hand through his hair. "Agh, fuck, okay — I’m sorry.”

He looks at you with guilty, glimmering eyes as you shift your body away from him. Guarded, tense. Closing up all access of you towards him because he lost those rights a long time ago. Muttering to himself now, Eddie scrapes at the pebbles beneath his feet, fiddling with the chain of his wallet before he dares to speak to you again.

"I just worry about you a lot."

You peer back over at him. "Deadass?"

He snorts. "Well yeah."

With your permission Eddie stalks closer to you.

"I don't want to wake up to a phone call talking about my wife's car bursting into flames — with her inside." He rolls his eyes. “All because she hasn't been maintaining her shit.”

"I have been," you fib just a bit, though most of it rings true. just forgot to iron out some little details."

Eddie relaxes his shoulders.

"I know," he surrenders. “I guess there's a part of me that secretly hopes you'll still need me somehow. Some way, or another."

"I'll always need your presence," you reassure him.

Your ex husband softens up. He always thought that during your separation you had found another Superman to save the day. Some other handsome devil to fix your car and maintain all the leaky faucets inside your once shared home. But as you've always insisted, nobody has your back like Eddie. Your very own George Reeves. At your disposal for you and you only.

He suddenly wraps his arms around you, and as you predicted you ease right into him, the comfort and familiarity of Eddie melting away any ounce of hostility you guys have ever harbored against each other. You both have your days, but the love you two have for each other has always remained the same. Just changed form, is all.

"I'm glad you're okay," is all he says.

'I'm glad you're here," you sniff. "Always playing hero, per usual..."

"Well for you, always."

He plants a gentle kiss on top of your forehead as you two sway around in unison. You hum to showcase your endearment.

And he'd do it again.

———

🏷️ tagging peeps who seemed interested in this lil universe 🫶🏼✨ thank you guys for reading :)

@highinmiamiii @potatobeans99 @mediocredreams @joshlmbrt @eddiesxangel @enam3l @mmunson86 @davidblowies-blog @thatissonnina @oskea93 @aurora-austen @lesservillain @madeofmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @munsonssweets @nailbatanddungeon @swiss-mrs @winchester-angel @belokhvostikova @curlyjoequinn @strangereads @marrowfrog00 @shadyunknowncreation @tuolcaniacoc @catherinnn @prestinalove @pleuviors @cinemabean @calumfmu @littlexdeaths

[jaeyunluvbot]

goodnight n go

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 vernon x fem!reader, kind of secret romance, college au

word count 𝟅𝟈 7.1k

NOT PROOFREAD

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The campus library hums with quiet activity: the scratch of pens, the faint tapping of keyboards, and whispers barely above a murmur. You’re in your usual corner, earbuds in and pretending you’re too absorbed in your screen to notice the commotion around you.

But you do notice. How could you not?

A burst of laughter draws your attention to the table just a few feet away. Of course, he’s there. Vernon Chwe.

He leans back in his chair, all lazy confidence, a backwards cap perched on his head like it’s an extension of his body. His hoodie looks soft, worn, perfectly slouchy, and it’s infuriating how good he looks without even trying. You force yourself to stare at your screen, typing nonsense just to look busy. He’s not even your enemy—not directly. But Vernon is part of Mingyu’s crowd, and that’s enough to keep him firmly on your ignore at all costs list.

You still remember how Jennie looked after her breakup with Mingyu—eyes puffy, voice breaking on every other word. She hasn’t explicitly told you to steer clear of Vernon, but loyalty doesn’t need to be spoken. Besides, you have no interest in frat boys who probably spend more time planning parties than studying.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You freeze. His voice cuts through the library like it has no regard for social norms—or the very clear quiet zone sign on the wall.

You don’t look up. Maybe if you pretend you didn’t hear him—

“Y/N,” he says again, louder this time. A few heads turn in mild irritation. You want to sink into the floor.

Reluctantly, you pull out an earbud and glare at him. “What?” you hiss.

He holds up a battered blue binder. Your binder. Your name is scrawled across the front in black Sharpie, unmistakable.

“I think you forgot this after class,” he says, his tone casual, almost playful.

You stomp over and snatch it from his hands. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he replies, grinning like you just made his day. “Oh, and nice presentation today in Dr. Kim’s class. You really knew your stuff.”

Your chest tightens, and not in the way you’d like to admit. Compliments shouldn’t feel like this—not from him, anyway. You shrug, keeping your voice neutral. “Thanks.”

You turn to leave, eager to put as much distance between yourself and his stupidly charming face as possible.

“You know,” he calls after you, his voice light, teasing, “I’m not as bad as you think I am.”

You stop mid-step. Slowly, you glance back at him. “What are you talking about?”

He leans back in his chair, his grin widening. “I mean, you don’t have to avoid me so much. I’m not the one who broke Jennie’s heart.”

Heat floods your cheeks—half embarrassment, half fury. “I’m not avoiding you,” you snap, even though the words feel like a lie.

“Sure you’re not,” he says, his tone maddeningly smug. “See you around, Y/N.”

You hate the way his voice lingers in your head long after you’ve stomped back to your seat.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The house is packed, music thumping so loud you can feel it in your chest. You’re clutching a red solo cup—not because you’re particularly in the mood to drink, but because it gives you something to do with your hands. Jennie’s off somewhere, probably gossiping with Irene and Seulgi, leaving you to hover near the snacks, pretending you’re not awkwardly alone in the middle of a frat house.

You don’t even know why you came.

Actually, that’s a lie—you know exactly why. Jennie had heard NCT was throwing the party, and you didn’t want to spend another Friday night alone in your dorm. But now, as you watch the endless crowd of people, you’re questioning your life choices.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

You don’t have to look up to know who it is.

Vernon Chwe.

His voice is casual, but when you glance at him, he’s smiling, almost like he’s been waiting for this moment. He’s ditched the usual hoodie for a plain black t-shirt and jeans, his hair falling messily over his forehead. It’s ridiculous how effortlessly good he looks.

“Didn’t think I’d see you either,” you reply, your tone sharper than intended.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Why’s that?”

“I didn’t think frat parties were your thing.”

“Really? I live here.”

Your face heats up at your own stupidity. He just laughs, shaking his head. “Relax, I’m kidding. I don’t live here, but I might as well with how often I’m around. The brothers in NCT are friends of my frat”

You roll your eyes. “Of course they are.”

There’s a beat of silence, just long enough to feel awkward. You glance at the door, contemplating an escape, but before you can bolt, Vernon leans a little closer.

“You look like you’re having a terrible time,” he says, his voice low enough that it feels like a secret between the two of you.

“I’m fine,” you lie.

“Come on,” he insists. “I saw you glaring at the chips like they personally offended you.”

You almost laugh despite yourself. “Maybe they did.”

He grins, taking a sip from his own cup. “Tell you what—let’s make it less terrible. There’s a quieter spot upstairs. Wanna come?”

Every sensible part of you screams no. This is exactly what you’ve been trying to avoid. But something about the way he’s looking at you, his smile soft and unassuming, makes you hesitate. Against your better judgment, you nod.

Vernon leads you to a room at the end of the hall, far enough from the party that the music feels like background noise. There’s an old couch in the corner, and he flops down, patting the seat next to him.

You hesitate, but sit down anyway, keeping a safe distance.

“See? Much better,” he says, leaning back and stretching his arms across the top of the couch.

“You didn’t bring me here to murder me, did you?” you joke, crossing your arms.

He snorts. “If I wanted to murder you, I wouldn’t have picked a frat party. Too many witnesses.”

“Good point.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. It’s not the awkward silence you expected. It’s…comfortable.

“So,” he says, breaking the quiet, “why do you hate me?”

Your head snaps toward him. “I don’t hate you.”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off.

“It’s fine,” he says, shrugging. “I get it. Jennie’s your friend, and Mingyu’s my friend. Guilty by association.”

You don’t know how to respond to that.

“I just think it’s kind of unfair,” he adds, his voice quieter now. “You don’t even know me.”

Something in his tone catches you off guard—he sounds almost…vulnerable.

You glance at him, and for the first time, you let yourself really look. He’s not grinning or teasing. He’s just sitting there, waiting for you to say something.

You glance at him, and for the first time, you let yourself really look. He’s not grinning or teasing. He’s just sitting there, waiting for you to say something.

“I guess…I never gave you a chance,” you admit, the words feeling heavier than they should.

He smiles, but it’s small and almost shy. “Well, I’m glad we’re fixing that now.”

You’re not sure why your chest feels so tight, or why your heart is beating so fast. All you know is that Vernon Chwe might be a problem—a very, very big problem.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You’ve never been one to lose track of time, especially not at a party. But as you sit on the worn couch in that quiet upstairs room, hours pass like minutes.

Vernon has a way of talking that catches you off guard. He’s not loud or overbearing like you imagined a frat boy would be. Instead, his words are thoughtful, his voice calm, like he’s actually listening and not just waiting for his turn to speak.

Somehow, the conversation flows from harmless small talk—classes, shared professors, and how the campus coffee shop is ridiculously overpriced—to deeper things.

“You know, when I found out you were friends with Jennie I was surprised,” he says, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

“Oh, really?” You arch a brow, leaning back into the couch.

“Yeah. You don’t have that… sorority vibe, you know?”

“And what vibe do I have, exactly?”

He grins, his eyes flickering to yours for a moment before he looks away. “You seem like you’ve got it all together, but there’s a lot more going on under the surface. Like, you’re the type of person who stays up all night overthinking things.”

Your stomach flips at how accurate that is. You cover it with a laugh. “What, did you take a psychology class or something?”

“Nah,” he says, still smiling. “I’m just good at reading people.”

“Then why didn’t you read that I don’t like you?”

It’s meant to be a jab, but it comes out softer than you intended.

He shrugs. “Because I don’t think that’s true.”

You scoff, but he doesn’t back down. His gaze lingers on you, not in an intimidating way, but like he’s trying to figure out how you work.

“Okay, fine,” you say, breaking the tension. “Maybe I didn’t like you before.”

“But now?” he asks, his tone teasing but his eyes serious.

You roll your eyes. “You’re…less annoying than I thought you’d be.”

“Wow, high praise,” he says, grinning.

You can’t help but smile back.

At some point, the conversation shifts to childhood memories. You tell him about the time you broke your mom’s favorite vase and tried to blame it on your cousin, only for your little brother to rat you out. He laughs, and it’s this deep, genuine sound that makes your chest feel warm.

In return, he tells you about the time he got his head stuck between the bars of a park fence and how Mingyu had to call their RA to get him out.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” you say, laughing, “the fact that you got stuck or the fact that you had to call for help.”

“Hey, I was, like, eight,” he says, pretending to be offended. “Cut me some slack.”

“Sure, sure,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye.

Before you realize it, the music from downstairs starts to fade, the party winding down. You check your phone—it’s past midnight.

“I should probably get going,” you say, though you don’t really want to.

“Yeah,” he says, standing up and stretching. “Me too.”

As you head downstairs together, the air between you feels different. Lighter. For the first time, you don’t feel the need to keep your guard up around him.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, he turns to you, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “This was…nice.”

You nod. “Yeah, it was.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to say something else, but instead, he just smiles. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Vernon.”

As you walk home, your thoughts race. You still don’t know what to make of him, but one thing’s for sure—he’s not at all what you expected.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next morning, you stumble out of bed and drag yourself downstairs to the kitchen, still in your pajamas. Your mind is hazy, last night’s events with Vernon replaying on a constant loop. You’re still trying to piece together how you ended up talking to him for hours, completely forgetting you were supposed to dislike him.

As you enter the kitchen, the lively chatter of your sorority sisters fills the air. Jennie, Irene, Seulgi, and Chaeyoung are crowded around the table, coffee mugs and half-eaten bagels scattered in front of them.

“Finally! Sleeping Beauty decided to join us,” Jennie teases, raising her mug in your direction.

“Morning,” you mumble, grabbing a mug for yourself and pouring some coffee.

“So, where did you disappear to last night?” Chaeyoung asks, looking at you curiously.

You nearly drop the coffee pot. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Irene says, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “One minute you were with us, the next you vanished into thin air.”

“Yeah,” Jennie chimes in, narrowing her eyes at you. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”

Your brain scrambles for an excuse. “I, uh… I left early. I had a headache.” You force a casual shrug, praying they won’t press further.

“Really?” Jennie asks, her voice skeptical.

“Yup. Didn’t want to ruin the vibe for anyone, so I just went home,” you say quickly, pouring yourself some coffee and taking a long sip to avoid their gazes.

Thankfully, Seulgi changes the subject. “Honestly, I don’t blame you. Those frat boys were so obnoxious.”

“Right?” Irene says, rolling her eyes. “Especially Mingyu’s friends. They’re the worst.”

You freeze, your stomach twisting.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Jennie groans. “Mingyu’s bad enough on his own, but all of them together? They’re insufferable.”

You stare down at your mug of coffee.

“Who even invited them anyway?” Chaeyoung adds.

“Probably Jaehyun,” Jennie mutters. “I think he’s like, friends with Mingyu or something.”

You sit in silence, staring into your mug as their voices swirl around you. They have no idea what you were doing last night—who you were talking to—and guilt settles heavily in your chest.

But why should you feel guilty? It’s not like you did anything wrong.

Still, you can’t help but think about Vernon’s laugh, his surprisingly thoughtful responses, and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his favorite movies. He didn’t seem like the person they’re describing.

“Y/N?” Jennie’s voice pulls you back to reality.

“What?”

“Are you coming with us to brunch later?”

“Oh. Uh, maybe. I’ll see how I’m feeling,” you say, your voice distant.

Jennie nods, not entirely convinced, but doesn’t push. As the conversation shifts, you force yourself to focus on anything other than Vernon.

But no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop thinking about him, a fact that has guilt eating you alive from the inside.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

A few days pass, and despite your best efforts to keep Vernon out of your head, he somehow keeps finding ways to slip back in. It doesn’t help that he texts you memes or random thoughts like, "Do you think penguins get cold?" throughout the day, making you smile when you shouldn’t.

You try to bury the guilt. You really do. But when Vernon suggests sneaking into your sorority house for a movie night—because his frat is too loud, and “your room probably smells better than mine”—you can’t seem to say no.

“Fine,” you whisper-yell into the phone. “But if we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“I can live with that,” he replies with a laugh.

A couple of hours later, Vernon is sprawled on the rug in your room, munching on chips he insisted on bringing while you sit cross-legged on your bed, watching Shrek 2. You hate how easy it is to be around him, how natural it feels to laugh with him like this.

“You know,” he says, turning to look at you, “for someone who supposedly hates me, you’re pretty bad at showing it.”

You roll your eyes, throwing a pillow at him. “Shut up and watch the movie.”

But just as he’s about to throw a chip back at you, there’s a knock at the door.

“Y/N?” Jennie’s voice cuts through the playful atmosphere like a knife.

Your heart leaps into your throat. You practically leap off the bed, gesturing frantically for Vernon to hide. He scrambles behind your bed just as you crack the door open, trying to look as casual as possible.

“Hey, Jen,” you say, forcing a smile.

“Are you coming to dinner with us?” she asks, peering into your room suspiciously.

“Oh, uh… maybe later,” you stammer. “I’m just… talking to my mom.”

Jennie raises an eyebrow. “Your mom?”

“Yeah, she called, and we’ve just been catching up,” you say quickly, holding up your phone for emphasis.

“Okay,” Jennie says slowly, clearly unconvinced. She glances behind you, as if she can sense something is off. “You sure everything’s okay?”

“Yep, totally fine!” you say, practically shoving the door closed. “Have fun at dinner!”

You shut the door and lean against it, your heart pounding.

From behind the desk, Vernon’s muffled laughter bubbles up. “Your mom, seriously?”

“Shut up!” you hiss, glaring at him.

He emerges from his hiding spot, grinning like an idiot. “That was smooth. Really convincing.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe this,” you mutter, flopping onto your bed. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault?” he says, sitting cross-legged on the rug again. “You’re the one who let me in.”

You throw another pillow at him, which he easily catches.

“Just admit you like me,” he teases, leaning back on his hands with that stupid, cocky grin.

You grab another pillow, ready to hurl it, but his words hit a little too close to home. Your grip loosens, and the pillow falls to your lap as your cheeks flush.

“See? You can’t even deny it,” he says, his voice softer now, his teasing tone giving way to something more genuine.

You hate that he’s right. But admitting it? That’s a whole other thing.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It’s been a whirlwind of late-night sneaking, secret hangouts, and way too much Vernon. Not that you’d admit you enjoy it.

Vernon has gotten way too comfortable invading your life. He texts you constantly, calls when you’re least expecting it, and—when he’s feeling particularly bold—throws in a casual, “Miss me yet?” with a winky face. You hate that the answer is always yes.

To make matters worse, Jennie has been clinging to you like never before. She’s always suggesting lunch dates or study sessions, and you can’t say no without feeling like the worst friend in the world.

Balancing both is exhausting. It feels like you’re living two lives: one where you’re Jennie’s loyal best friend, and one where you’re Vernon’s… whatever you are.

One afternoon, when the stress feels like it’s going to eat you alive, you knock on Chaeyoung’s door, desperate for advice. She’s lounging on her bed with a sketchpad when you walk in, looking up with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s with the dramatic entrance?” she asks.

“I need help,” you say, collapsing into her beanbag chair.

“Uh-oh. Is this about Jennie or Vernon?”

Your head snaps up. “How did you—?”

Chaeyoung shrugs. “It’s obvious. You’ve been weirdly busy lately, but you look way too happy for it to just be school. Plus, Vernon keeps staring at you in class.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I’m doomed.”

“Okay, spill,” Chaeyoung says, setting her sketchpad aside.

You tell her everything—how Vernon wormed his way into your life, how he’s not the annoying frat boy you thought he’d be, how you actually like spending time with him.

“But Jennie,” you say, throwing your hands up. “She’d kill me if she found out. And I don’t even know what this is with Vernon. It’s not like we’re dating, but…”

“But you want to,” Chaeyoung finishes for you.

You hesitate, then nod. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Chaeyoung leans back, thoughtful. “Well, Vernon didn’t do anything to Jennie. That was all Mingyu.”

“I know,” you say quickly. “But it’s not that simple. She hates Vernon by association. If she knew I was hanging out with him…”

“She’d be pissed,” Chaeyoung finishes with a sigh.

“Exactly,” you mutter, slumping further into the beanbag.

Chaeyoung looks at you sympathetically. “Okay, but hear me out. Do you really think this is sustainable? Sneaking around, lying to Jennie, sneaking Vernon into the house… You’re gonna crack eventually.”

You don’t want to admit she’s right, but you know she is. The thought of coming clean terrifies you, though. What if Jennie takes it the wrong way? What if she gets mad and it ruins your friendship?

“I just… I don’t know how to tell her,” you admit quietly.

“Well,” Chaeyoung says, smirking a little, “if Vernon is as crazy about you as he seems, maybe it’s worth taking the risk.”

Her words stick with you longer than you’d like. But are you brave enough to actually act on them?

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

This time, your sorority is the one hosting a party, the kind of event where you can already feel your exhaustion just from the noise and the amount of people packed into your sorority house. It’s loud and flashy, with your sisters dancing and laughing, and—against all expectations—Jennie has begrudgingly invited the Seventeen frat. You know why she did it. Drinks, snacks, and the usual frat chaos that she’s come to rely on for a good time.

But you? You’re stuck. You’ve spent most of the night glued to Jennie’s side, unable to sneak away, unable to make any excuse to disappear into the crowd where you could catch a glimpse of Vernon. The tension in the air is thick, and you can’t avoid the prickle of guilt as you glance across the room and catch sight of him. His eyes meet yours for a second, and you can almost feel the way his smile falters. He tries to move closer, but Jennie’s hand tugs you away, her chatter drowning out everything else.

“Come on, let’s dance,” Jennie says, pulling you into the middle of the room, and you can’t help but notice how she deliberately blocks Vernon from your line of sight.

You nod and force a smile. You hate this. You hate the way you’re pretending, the way you’re avoiding him, as though everything that’s been between you suddenly doesn’t matter. But Jennie doesn’t know, and you can’t risk it. Not when she’s this protective of you. You’d never hear the end of it.

Vernon, on the other hand, doesn’t let it slide. As the night stretches on, you can see him trying to talk to you. A quick chat, maybe a dance, a little smile. Each time, you have to turn away, pretending you don’t feel the pull in your chest. He’s not buying it.

Finally, he steps back, his lips curling into a sharp smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Okay, cool,” he mutters, the hurt clear in his tone. “I see how it is.” He turns away, disappearing into the crowd.

Jennie notices. “Haha, that’s weird. Why is he only talking to you?” she asks, a tinge of knowing in her voice.

You force a laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as fake as it feels. “Yeah, definitely. I don’t know why he was talking to me either.”

The words burn in your mouth, and you want to kick yourself. It’s all a lie. A lie you’ve been feeding to Jennie, to yourself, to everyone. But the guilt is too much, and you just need to get through tonight.

When the party dies down, and you finally find an excuse to leave, you head upstairs, your heart heavy with a mix of guilt and regret. You barely get your door closed before you pull out your phone and start typing to Vernon.

Hey… I’m sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to be weird. I just didn’t know what to do.

You wait, staring at the screen, hoping for the buzz of a reply. But it never comes. A few minutes pass, then thirty, then an hour. Your thumb hovers over the screen, ready to type again, but no new message comes in.

Finally, you give up, tossing your phone aside and heading into the bathroom. You turn the shower on, trying to wash away the anxiety that’s coiling in your stomach. It doesn’t work.

You curl into bed, the sheets cold against your skin, but nothing can stop your thoughts from swirling. You feel horrible for betraying Jennie, for lying to her. But then there’s Vernon, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve betrayed him too. What’s worse is you can’t even tell Jennie the truth because it would hurt her, and you can’t risk that. You feel like you’re suffocating under the weight of it all.

The knock on your door comes hours later, and when you open it, Jennie is standing there, still in her outfit from the party, her expression soft.

“Hey,” she says, her voice quiet. “Can I come in?”

You nod silently, stepping aside to let her in.

“I know something’s up,” she says, sitting on your bed. “You’ve been acting weird all night. You can tell me, you know. I’m your friend.”

You stand there for a moment, fighting back the tears that are threatening to spill. You want to tell her. You want to be honest. But the truth feels impossible to say.

“I can’t,” you say, shaking your head. “I just… I feel awful. I don’t know what to do.”

Jennie sighs, looking at you with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone. But it sounds like you need some time to figure things out. Just know I’m here if you need me, okay?”

You give a shaky nod.

Jennie stands and pats your shoulder gently. “If you need to talk, I’m here. But take your time. Just don’t keep it all in too long, okay?”

You whisper, “I just don’t know what to do.”

“I know,” she says softly, offering you a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll figure it out.”

As she walks out, you close the door behind her, burying your face in your hands. The guilt is suffocating, but you also know that Jennie is right. You have a lot to figure out—and soon.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Everyone is packing up, signaling the end of another lecture. You grab your things quickly, your thoughts racing. This is it. You can’t keep avoiding him, and you can’t let things stay awkward between you and Vernon any longer. You know he’s been hurt, and you can’t just let it fester.

As you walk out of class, you spot him talking to a few of his friends, his back turned to you. You hesitate for a second, wondering if you should just leave it for another day, but then you square your shoulders and head toward him.

“Vernon,” you call, and his shoulders stiffen before he turns around to face you. The moment his eyes meet yours, you see the flicker of wariness in them, the same hesitation that you’ve been feeling.

“Hey,” he greets you, his voice neutral but with a hint of something else. He’s not mad, but it’s clear he’s still hurt.

You bite your lip, knowing this is going to be a bit of a confrontation. “Can we talk?”

His gaze flickers to his friends, who are still hanging around, laughing and joking. He looks back at you, eyes narrowed slightly. “What about?”

You take a deep breath. “I just… I want to apologize for what happened at the party. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You’re serious?” He laughs dryly, a little incredulity in his tone. “After everything, now you want to apologize?”

You can tell he’s holding back, trying not to sound too hurt or too bitter, but you know him well enough by now to catch it. You step closer, lowering your voice so only he can hear. “Yeah, I’m serious. I messed up, okay? But can we talk about it, like, without everyone else around?”

Vernon hesitates, glancing at his friends again, who are still chatting, not paying much attention to either of you. He seems reluctant to leave them, but then he sighs and looks back at you. “I’m not sure what we’re gonna talk about that’s so urgent, but fine. Let’s go.”

You lead the way to the small café off-campus, the one where you both have shared stolen moments before. It’s always been a place for you to get away from everything and everyone. Just the two of you. You can’t help but hope this conversation will get you back to where you were before everything got so messy.

When you get there, Vernon still seems distant. He orders a coffee and takes a seat at one of the far booths, clearly not thrilled about being there, but you don’t let it stop you. You sit across from him, feeling the weight of the silence pressing down between you.

“So?” Vernon asks after a beat, his voice softer, more vulnerable than before.

You swallow hard, the guilt rushing back in full force. “I didn’t know how to handle it. I thought if I just ignored everything, it would be easier. I didn’t want to hurt Jennie, and I didn’t want you to think I was picking sides or something.”

Vernon leans back in the booth, clearly not convinced, but willing to listen. “And now? Now you’re ready to make it right?”

You nod, your eyes meeting his. “I don’t want to keep avoiding you. I never should have ignored you, Vernon. I care about you. I’m just… trying to figure things out.”

He stares at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge whether or not you mean it. Finally, he lets out a breath and looks away, taking a sip of his coffee. “You know, I didn’t expect it to be like this. I didn’t expect you to pretend I didn’t exist, Y/N.”

The words sting, but you know he’s right. You were too afraid of what it could mean to let yourself be real with him. You glance down at your hands, suddenly feeling the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. “I know. And I’m sorry for that. But I’m here now. I’m not running away anymore.”

Vernon doesn’t answer right away. He just stares at you, as if weighing your words. Then, slowly, he gives you a small nod. “Okay. I’ll take that.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Thank you.”

He looks at you, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “But you still owe me something.”

You raise an eyebrow, confused. “What do you mean?”

His grin widens, the playfulness in his tone returning. “A little honesty. You can’t just tell me that you’re not running away and expect me to believe that everything’s all good now. I want to know why you were so damn scared of me.”

Your cheeks heat up, and you look away, embarrassed. “Vernon, stop.”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying teasing you. “Come on. Just admit it. You like me.”

You groan and shake your head, trying to hold back a smile. “Oh my God, you’re impossible.”

He leans forward, eyes glinting with mischief. “Just admit it, Y/N. I know you like me, at least a little.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying the flutter in your stomach. “Fine, I like you a tiny bit. Happy now?”

Vernon’s grin softens, and he sits back in his seat, clearly satisfied. “Much better.”

There’s a shift in the air between you two, something lighter, more comfortable. You both know things aren’t perfect yet, but you’ve crossed a bridge, and it feels like a good step forward.

For the first time in a while, you’re not dreading what’s to come. You’re just here with him. And, for now, that’s enough.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The cold of winter had been relentless lately, and you’ve been spending most of your time bundled up in layers of blankets, trying to stay warm while surviving the stress of exam season. Between your studies, your sorority obligations, and the pressure of keeping everything balanced, you’ve barely had time for anything else.

But tonight, when you were in the middle of reviewing your notes, your phone buzzed with a message from Vernon.

Vernon: Yo, I’m locked out of the frat house. Can I crash at yours?

You bite your lip, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one is around. Technically, you’re not allowed to have overnight guests, but you can’t help but feel for him. The cold night air must be unbearable, and you know Vernon well enough to know he won’t ask for help unless he really needs it.

You: I’m not supposed to have anyone here, but I’ll make an exception for you this time.

Vernon: Thanks. I swear I’ll be out of your hair by morning. Promise.

A few minutes later, Vernon’s at your door, his face a little red from the cold, looking as casual as ever in his hoodie and jeans. You step aside to let him in.

“You’re lucky I’m a softie for you,” you tease, but the warmth you’re offering him is genuine as he steps inside.

“I know. I owe you one,” Vernon replies, smiling that crooked smile of his that always manages to make your heart skip.

You show him to your room, where you pull out the air mattress you keep tucked away in the corner for emergencies like this. “I’ve got this, but it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world. You’re welcome to it.” You hand him a pillow and a blanket.

He frowns slightly, eyeing the air mattress. “It’ll do.” He flops down on it with a huff, and you return to your side of the room, trying to focus on your notes again.

But the chill in the room isn’t just from the weather. The heating’s been out in the house for the past few days, and no amount of blankets seems to be helping. After a few minutes of shivering under your own covers, you turn to Vernon on the floor.

“You’re probably freezing down there,” you say, already feeling guilty.

He shrugs, but you can tell from his expression that he’s cold.

“I don’t want you getting sick,” you continue. “You can join me in the bed, if you want. It’ll be warmer with both of us.”

Vernon looks at you for a beat, hesitating, but ultimately nods. “Ok. But no funny business.”

“Of course,” you say, trying to hide your grin, but your heart is already racing a little.

He slides into the bed next to you, and you both lie there, staring up at the ceiling, neither of you speaking for a long while. The silence is oddly comfortable, but it’s also loaded—with so many unsaid things.

The two of you just lay there, listening to the sounds of the night, the quiet of your room feeling oddly intimate with him so close.

Finally, Vernon breaks the silence with a sigh, his voice just above a whisper. “You know… we’d be great together.”

You snap your head toward him, caught completely off guard. “What?”

His eyes are already on you, his expression serious. “I’m tired of always having to say goodnight and go. I like you, and I want to be with you.”

Your heart does a flip in your chest. You stare at him, your mind scrambling to make sense of his words, unsure of how to respond.

“What?” you repeat, because you can’t think of anything else to say. Your voice is shaky, a mixture of disbelief and something else you can’t quite name.

Vernon sighs, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “You heard me.”

He shifts closer, his hand brushing against yours under the covers. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze that makes you feel like your heart might just fall out of your chest.

“I’m tired of pretending,” he adds quietly. “I can’t keep doing this—acting like I don’t want more than just late-night talks and goodbyes.”

You feel your chest tighten, a swirl of emotions crashing into you all at once. You want to say something, but words feel inadequate, too small for the way you’re feeling right now.

Instead, you just stare at him, your breath catching in your throat. He’s close now, so close that you can feel the heat from his body, and his eyes are filled with an intensity that you didn’t know he could have.

You open your mouth, but the words get stuck. What is there to say when everything between you feels so... complicated? So dangerous? You can’t let this happen. Not now.

But before you can respond, Vernon speaks again. “You don’t have to say anything. I just—” He pauses, shaking his head slightly, like he’s unsure of how to finish his thought. “I just needed you to know.”

Your heart is racing. You want to pull away, but something about the way he’s looking at you keeps you rooted to the spot. There’s no denying it anymore—there’s something between you and Vernon. Something real.

But the reality of your situation sinks in like a stone in your stomach. You can’t let it happen. Not now, not like this.

“I—Vernon…” You trail off, unable to finish. It’s like your brain is in a fog, fighting against your heart’s instincts.

Vernon’s hand brushes against yours again, his fingers almost touching yours. “I’m not asking for anything right now. I just want to be close to you. And I want you to know how I feel.”

For a moment, all you can do is lie there, lost in the weight of his words. You don’t know what to say, but you know that the longer you stay in this moment, the harder it’s going to be to walk away from whatever this is between you.

All you can do is look at him, and in the silence of the room, let his confession hang in the air.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The weight of the secret has been hanging over you for so long, and you've finally had enough of pretending. You’ve been running from this, trying to keep your two lives separate, but the pressure is starting to get unbearable. You know you can’t hide it anymore, not from Jennie—especially not now.

You find her in the living room of your sorority house, sitting on the couch scrolling through her phone. The warmth of the fire crackling in the background is a sharp contrast to the cold you’ve been carrying in your chest for weeks. You take a deep breath and sit next to her, your heart racing with anticipation.

“Hey, Jen?”

She looks up, a soft smile forming on her lips. “What’s up?”

“I—I need to tell you something,” you start, your words tripping over each other. “About... Vernon. And me.”

Jennie quirks an eyebrow, her smile widening. “Finally,” she says with a knowing look.

You blink, completely caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

Jennie laughs softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I was wondering when you’d come clean.”

You stare at her, dumbfounded. “You knew?”

Her laugh grows louder as she shakes her head. “You’re really not the best liar, you know. I could tell something was up, and you weren’t exactly subtle about it.”

“I—" You cut yourself off, unable to form a coherent thought as the realization hits you. “So, that whole time you—?”

Jennie shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, I kept bringing up how much I hated his friend group because I wanted to see how long it would take you to crack. Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long.”

Your mouth drops open in shock, but then, something inside you relaxes. You laugh, feeling the tension inside of you dissolve for the first time in ages. “I can’t believe you knew this whole time and didn’t say anything!”

Jennie smirks, her eyes softening. “You needed to figure it out on your own. And hey, you did. So I’m happy for you.”

You feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. All the guilt, the secrets, the tension—all gone in an instant. Jennie is happy for you, and you didn’t have to hide anymore.

With a deep breath, you pull out your phone and send Vernon a quick text:

You: Come over. We need to talk.

The moment your finger leaves the send button, you can’t help but feel a rush of excitement mixed with nerves. Jennie notices your expression and gives you a soft, knowing smile.

“You’re doing the right thing,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “Go after what you want.”

The doorbell rings a short while later, and you almost jump out of your skin. Jennie watches you go with a teasing smile, and you roll your eyes before heading to the door.

When you open it, Vernon’s standing there, a little unsure, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His eyes search yours, as if he’s waiting for you to say something.

You pull him up the stairs once again, except this time, you don’t have to hide or worry about someone finding out. It’s strangely freeing.

“Hey,” you say softly, stepping aside so he can come in. “I, uh… I’ve been thinking a lot about us, and about everything.”

He steps inside your room, looking at you with a mixture of curiosity and hope in his eyes. And for a moment, you just stand there, the space between you two thick with unspoken words.

You take a deep breath, your nerves getting the best of you for just a second. “Vernon, I—I didn’t want to keep lying to myself anymore. Or to you. I told Jennie about us.”

Vernon’s eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“I’ve been hiding how I feel for so long,” you continue, stepping closer to him, “and it’s stupid. I don’t want to keep pretending. I like you. I really like you.”

A smile starts to tug at the corners of Vernon’s lips, and without thinking, you rush to add, “I’m not expecting anything, but I just—”

Before you can finish, Vernon cuts you off, closing the gap between you and pulling you into a kiss that feels like the weight of everything falling away. All the confusion, the guilt, the fear—it all melts as his lips find yours, soft and warm.

When he pulls back, his eyes are shining. “You don’t have to say anything more. I already know.”

You smile, your heart beating wildly. This is it. This is what you’ve been wanting, and now you’re finally getting it.

He pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time, and you can feel everything shifting between you two—like the world is finally falling into place.

The kiss is everything you’ve been wanting and more, full of tenderness and passion, but also full of understanding. You’ve both been waiting for this moment for a long time, and now it’s finally here.

When you break away, your foreheads rest against each other, both of you smiling like you’ve just found something precious.

“I think this is the start of something good,” Vernon murmurs, his voice full of certainty.

You nod, your heart full. “Yeah, I think it is.”

And for the first time in a long while, you feel truly happy, knowing that you’ve let go of your fears and embraced what you really want.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

author's note 𝟅𝟈 i love vernon and i love this song

masterlist.

[a-aexotic]

grumpy!rafe and sunshine!reader where he’s obsessed with her and is so clingy. whatever you want to write about that tbh

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: fluff!, rafe being mean (towards top LMFAO), mention of parties/drinking.

summary. when reader goes on a girls trip, rafe gets grumpy because his girl is gone because he's alone.

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

part 2 !!

You and Rafe were complete opposites. You two were so contrasting, everyone had questions but neither of you cared. You two were just in your own bubble, not caring about anyone else's opinion.

Rafe didn't like many people but more importantly, he loved close to no one. For a while he guarded his heart so furiously, everyone had just grown used to the fact he was just an asshole. Not you, you broke down those walls the moment you walked into his life.

He immediately liked you. But, he grew to love you. And so did you with him. You changed him as well for the better as well; everyone knew that Rafe became a better person when he got with you.

You had him whipped and he wasn't afraid to admit to anyone.

Rafe was sitting outside by the pool, annoyance filling his body. You were out of town for the weekend and he honestly had nothing to do except sulk around until you eventually came back. He heard the door slide open and he looked over to see Topper.

He groaned out load and sighed. "What do you want?"

"Dude, chill out."

"I am, Topper, your aura is just pissing me off." Rafe argued and Topper let out a laugh, taking a seat in the chair next to him.

"Aura? Dude, are you joking? You've been hanging around Y/N way too much man. It's been a year now and you guys are still in the honeymoon phase."

Rafe's nostrils flared as he turned back to his 'best friend.' "Well it's always the honeymoon phase if you found the right one, Top. You wouldn't know that because there is no right one for you."

Topper rolled his eyes in annoyance but before he could reply, Rafe continued.

"And I don't hang out with Y/N too much. It's a reasonable amount of time."

"Bro, when was the last we actually hung out?"

"Like last weekend dude, chill out. You're acting like I don't ever see you. You're always at my house, man, it's getting exhausting." Rafe sighed before Topper registered what he was saying and nodded.

"Oh, yeah. You're right. That party was awesome last weekend bro, wow. I forgot about it." Topper chuckled to himself and Rafe made a disgusted face.

"Why are you here anyway, Top?" Rafe got up from the chair and started walking inside; he needed a beer after the conversation with Topper.

He followed close behind. "Uh, Sarah was getting me my stuff back."

Rafe couldn't help but laugh to himself as Topper glared at him. "Sorry, man. I thought you were off that train a while ago, you're still on her? It's been like-"

"Dude, you wouldn't understand!"

Rafe heard the door open and the footsteps leading into the kitchen. He immediately put down his beer once he saw your face, a big smile forming on his lips.

"Y/N!"

You walked over to him with a grin playing on your lips as you embraced him tightly. He put his arms around your waist. As you let go he leaned in for a quick kiss on the lips as Topper furrowed his eyebrows in disgust.

"Get a room."

Rafe glared at him. "You realize it's my house, right, Topper?"

You laughed at your boyfriend's sarcasm. "Sorry, Top, you still haven't found a girlfriend?"

"Yeah, man. It's really hard to find a decent girl on this stupid island." Topper ran his hand through his hair, obviously stressed out. You held in a laugh.

Rafe put a hand on Topper's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "You'll find one soon, dude, don't worry. Now, if you don't mind leaving, me and my girl have to catch up."

"Oh, come on, it's been like two days!"

Rafe gave him a stern look before Topper rolled his eyes and groaned, walking away. Rafe faced you and gave you a kiss on your forehead, taking your hand in his.

He led you outside and he took a seat where he was sitting before. He spread his legs so you stand in between them as he grabbed your waist, pulling you in.

"Top's right, Rafe, it has only been-"

"Shhh, let me enjoy this moment."

You found a tiny bit amusing how clingy Rafe was. You took it as a compliment though, you were glad you were one of the only people who have ever had Rafe so whipped for them; maybe even the only one.

He pulled your waist in more and put his head on your stomach, finding comfort in you and your body. He looked up at you with a smile. "Missed you so much babe. I was bored all weekend, I literally only hung out here. But Topper kept annoying me."

You laughed at that, "Topper's your best friend."

"No, you are. He's just the dude I hang around with."

You shook your head. "Stop being mean, I know you care about him a tiny bit."

He rolled his eyes, "like the smallest bit."

You smiled at your boyfriend, putting your hands in his hair as he relaxed. "I missed you, too. So much, I kept saving your snaps because I missed your cute face."

He grumbled at the wording and you couldn't help but laugh again. "I mean, hot face."

He grinned, "that's better."

[im4rmy]

your first time together - haechan (idol AU)

IMAGINE: you find in him the perfect fuck-buddy to relieve stress

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

• during your first encounter when you had dinner together... the tension was almost unbearable, even if you just met.

• now, after a week and a half, you couldn't stop thinking about how bad you wanted to... be fucked by him. honestly.

• lately life was really testing your resiliance because college was STRESSING you out and living with your parents and two younger siblings wasn't helpful.

• you NEEDED to relieve stress and you knew that a well known idol like him wasn't the best choice but you knew it wasn't one-sided (and you were right)

• haechan was thinking about you a lot more than he expected. of course you were hot as fuck but after that fun dinner together he tought that was it. but holy shiiit weren't you addicting.

• haechan sighs and gets up to wash his plate. he just had a solo dinner watching youtube to wind down after a long day at work, he wasn't very physically exhausted but mentally he was stressed out of his mind.

• and when his doorbell rings, a shiver runs down his spine: saesangs were literally his nightmare. he looked at the clock on the wall: 8.20 pm.

• he reaches the door, looks through the digital peephole and blinks in shock seeing... you.

• he opens the door at lightning speed and just stares at you, wearing your black leather jacket and high ponytail.

• "i think i forgot my- something... last week. here, i mean" "what is it?"

• you gulp. "my... scarf?" "you could ask your mom to look for it"

• you're just staring at him atp, praying that he'll take the hint. he got it the moment he saw you there, actually, but wanted to get you flustered a little bit.

• "are you alone" "i am" "then let me in, asshole"

• he doesn't even answer, he just takes you from your jacket and pulls you inside, he closes the door and lifts you from your legs, sitting you on the kitchen counter.

• you let out a sigh of relieve and start to kiss him instantly, grabbing his clean face and pulling him towards you. he moans in your mouth and rests his hands on your clothed thighs, tasting them with his palms.

• you try to not stop the kiss while you take off your jacket and he seems to agree because he immediately pulls at your white t-shirt to take it off and then you do the same with his.

• he goes down with his face pushing you to lay your back on the counter and literally insert his face between your breasts. he inhales your scent and leaves a kiss there before reaching for unclipping your blue bra.

• you curl your legs around his pelvis and relax under his warm hands caressing your whole torso, his lips exploring your skin from your neck to your chest, down to your belly and your hips.

• he takes the button of your jeans in his hands and looks at you, his chest moving up and down rapidly. you sit up and attack his lips grabbing his hair in your hands and he takes it as a "yes".

• haechan unbuttons your jeans and his hand sneaks right inside your panties, making you wince in surprise, but it's a very pleasing surprise as his long fingers dive in between your folds and you literally melts on the surface of his kitchen counter.

• you're literally crying at this point and seeing your back arching, your eyes closing, the goosebumps on your skin and hearing you moaning make haechan's boner getting almost unsufferable.

• "let me ask you something real quick" "you're literally fingering me"

• "yeah about that: are we gonna fuck? is that what we're doing? i need some clarification"

• you grunt and sit up, his hand still inside your panties. "i need some stress-relief, not a relationship. are you in?"

• "you're very naked on my kitchen and you look like a goddess- of course i'm in. i'm all in, i'm very, absolutely-" "shut the fuck up for the love of god"

• you kiss him again and push him back coming on your feet.

• "bedroom?" "too far"

• he just pulls you down on the floor with him and you manage to top him, sitting on his pelvis. you unbutton his jeans and throw them away along with his boxers and your panties.

• you don't even stroke him because he's READY. you align yourself and -finally- sit on him all the way down, riding him as your first time together.

• haechan lets out a loud moan arching his back on the floor and grasps your hips in his hands, helping you to match his thrusts.

• everything is a mess: you two moan without much shame or control, the floor is cold, the both of you started to sweat- but damn how GOOD it feels.

• and that orgasm- oh my god. you literally collapse on him panting and probably slapping his face with your ponytail.

• "that was-" "yeah"

• "can you come again tomorrow?" "same time?" "same time"

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

other haechan's chapters:

bf!haechan scenario

haechan - when you first met

haechan - your first time together ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ you're here!

OT7 chapters:

your contact names in each other's phone

his favourite part of your body

when he hurts you during sex by accident

⇘ nct dream idol AU index ⇙

·˚✎ ﹏im4rmy's masterlist

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

[raven-dor]

i'll be watching you

in which steve harrington can’t stop thinking about the one girl who believed in him

PAIRING: steve harrington x fem!reader, dustin henderson x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, young love, realization, ANGST ANGST ANGST, nostalgia, CRAZY amounts of yearning, obliviousness

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

🎶 : every breath you take - the police

AN: this hurt to write... enjoy!! (also the 'present' is the mid 90's, so Steve and you are in your late 20's)

Steve was utterly confused. First, he decides, of his own volition, to apologize to Jonathan Wheeler. Then, he knocks on the boy’s door to find Y/N, panic evident in her expression and her hand bleeding. 

He bursts in, worried about her safety, to then find that his girlfriend is also there, with a gun pointed at his face.

He was then dragged through the Wheeler’s house away from some sort of creature before finally being ushered out by Y/N, her words haunting him as he opened the car door. “I don’t want you wrapped up in this, Steve. Just leave it alone.” 

Why would she care? And why could she be involved, but not him? No, Steve thought to himself as he grabbed his bat, she could not go through this alone. (He would later reference this moment as the second his feelings for her grew past friendship.) Screams rang through the Byers property, and Steve burst through the door once more, swinging his bat and slamming the monster square in the face. 

Y/N was on the floor, grinning wildly at the boy before her. “Steve!” He ran over, extending his hand and pulling her into his arms. “What are you-” 

“Don’t tell me to leave it alone ever again.” He whispered.

She nodded, hugging him tightly. “Fine.” 

A cough interrupted their moment, and they pulled apart, remembering where they were. Y/N laughed, nudging the King of Hawkins lightly. “You’re quite the hero.” 

A chill ran down his spine, and he clenched his eyes shut. She made him crazy sometimes.

Steve groaned, shoving his face further into his pillow. Not again, he thought. This had been the third time this week he’d woke up this early. Every time it was the same, it was almost like he was going back in time, his dreams exactly as they had been in real life. 

And every time it revolved around her. 

He rolled over, staring at the ceiling. Why couldn’t he have a dream about puppies or his dream job?

His alarm clock rang, and his heart dropped. “Shit!” Jumping out of bed, he sprinted to the bathroom, fixing his hair as best he could in two minutes.

His real shift at his very real job started in ten minutes.

“Y/N!” 

God, she forgot how dismal this gym could be. All the horrible memories of middle school gym class came rushing back. Over by the locker room is where Tracy C. tripped her ‘on accident.’ The bleachers were where she’d sit when she wasn’t picked for dodgeball. 

And by the exit door was where she would secretly cheer for Steve as he played basketball. 

She was sure some of these kids, at least the ones she knew, had had the same happen to them. The doors to the gym opened for the hundredth time, Dustin Henderson walking through with what Y/N could only identify as a Steve Harrington special. 

She waved at the boy, smiling brightly as he walked across the gym to meet her.

She hoped he hadn’t seen her space out.

“Are you okay?” 

So he had. Y/N smiled, nodding. “Of course I am, now that you’re here.” He blushed. “You look very handsome, Dustin.” 

“Thank you.” He grinned. “Steve helped me.” 

“Really?” She smiled, laughing to herself. “That’s really nice of him.” 

“We’re friends now!” Dustin was still grinning. “He drove me here.” 

Her eyes darted toward the entrance, and the young boy’s face fell ever so slightly. “He said he doesn’t want to come in because…” He motioned for Y/N to lean down, whispering in her ear. “Because of Nancy.” 

Of course, how could she forget about Nancy? She loved her friend, but her heart ached to think about Steve’s undying love for her. “Ah.” She locked her lips, figuratively throwing away the key. “Your secret is safe with-” 

“Henderson.” 

She looked up, locking eyes with Steve’s instantly. He was beautiful in that color, she realized. It brought out the gold in his eyes.

“Wow.” Steve smiled shyly, rubbing a hand on his neck. “You-” 

“Are you kidding me?” He murmured as his eyes peeled open. 

This had to stop. 

He already deeply regretted his life choices, and now he couldn’t even escape them in sleep. He drove to work grumpily, parked his car grumpily, and stood at the Family Video counter grumpily. Robin laughed, shaking her head. 

“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” 

He glared, sticking his tongue out. “Good morning to you too, Robin.” 

“You’ve been pissy lately,” Robin said it like it was a fact like everyone in Hawkins had been talking about it. “What’s up, Harrington?” 

“I-” He couldn’t tell Robin, she would never let him live this down. No, this was the type of thing you kept to yourself, driving yourself crazy until- “Just had a rough night.” 

“Okay.” Her shoulders deflated, grabbing the cart full of VHS tapes. “Let me know when you want to tell the truth.” 

“Shit, shit shit.” Y/N’s eyes were glassy as she clung to Steve’s side, supporting him as he walked. “Why’d you have to be the hero?” 

“That’s part of my-” He winced, laughing as her face grew even more worried. “Part of my charm, babe.” 

Y/N ignored the way her cheeks flushed, leaning him against the giant boulder. “Just be quiet.”

He nodded, leaning his head back in pain. “No problem.” 

“Really?” She scoffed, muttering thanks as Robin handed her cloth to wrap around his (chiseled) abdomen. “You scared me, you know.” 

Her voice was soft, much softer than normal. It sounded weak; scared even. He frowned, reaching out and brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Didn’t mean to.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you did, Harrington.”

“Can you just-” He sighed. “Can you look at me? You haven’t met my eyes since you’ve gotten down here.” 

She shook her head, trying her best to wipe away the dirt from his gaping wound. “I really hope this doesn’t get infected.” 

“Y/N, come on.” He smiled, forcing himself not to cry out in pain. “Look at me.” 

“I think Eddie’s-” Robin received a hard glare from Steve, and she nodded, walking away without another word. 

Her face felt hot, eyes watery as she looked up at him. He grinned, whispering so that only they could hear. “There she is.”

“Here I am.” She whispered back, tears falling down her cheeks freely. “Now can I-” 

“I’m so mad at you right now.” 

Her head cocked to the side. “What?” She must have misheard him. 

“You heard me.” His tone was tense, but his eyes told a different story. “I said to stay in the boat, didn’t I? Don’t follow after me.” He scoffed, flailing his arms, pain ringing through his aching muscles. “And what did you do? You followed me.” 

“As opposed to what? Watching helplessly as you were dragged into hell?” She stood up, glaring. “Would you rather have died down here?” More tears fell as she stared, hissing at him so the others couldn’t hear. “You don’t have to do everything alone!” 

“I know that-” 

“Then why can’t I follow after you? Huh?” She glared. “You’re not the boss of-” 

“I didn’t want you wrapped up in this!” He yelled, Nancy, Eddie, and Robin jumping at the sound. “You should’ve left it alone.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, last I checked, I was involved first.” She yelled back. “Now shut up so I can fix you.” She knelt again, tying the cloth Robin gave her earlier gently around him. An uncomfortable silence fell over them before she spoke once more. “Just be careful, alright? I can’t do this without you.” 

“Y/N…” His eyes were watering, from the pain or what she said, he couldn’t tell. “I’m sorry.” 

“Good.” She wiped the dirt from her hands. “I’m sorry too, I guess.” She stood up, muttering. “Even though I have no reason to apologize.” 

He laughed, reaching out for her hold. “Could I-” 

“Yes! Yeah, of course.” His arm expertly laid around her shoulders, and in another life, they could have walked through Hawkins High like this. “Please stop acting like the hero. I can’t bear it.” 

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

She nodded, her eyes full of desperation, and his heart skipped. Shit. “Yeah.” 

He nodded, kissing her temple gently. “Whatever you want, babe.” 

“Hey!” Eddie’s voice interrupted whatever was happening between them. “Why don’t you take a break? I can take care of Harrington for a bit.” 

“Are you sure?” Y/N frowned, not even bothering to look at her best friend, still staring up at Steve with that dangerous look in her eyes. “I really don’t mind.” 

“Y/N.” Steve whispered. “You’ve done enough for me to last a lifetime. I’ll be okay.” 

She looked hurt, but let go of Steve regardless. “Alright, he’s all yours, Munson.” 

Eddie waited until she was by Robin and Nancy to speak. “She was the first one to dive in after you.”

Steve smiled. “Really?”

Eddie nodded. “You know she likes you, right?” 

“I know.” He laughed as he watched her jump on Robin’s back. “I like her too.” 

“Good, good.” Eddie placed a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Just, don’t hurt her, okay? She seems strong, but…” 

“I won’t.” Steve was so confident in it, so sure. “I would never do anything to hurt her.” 

His latest dream had thrown him for a loop. Eddie, a man he was never close with in school, died hours after that. God, he thought as he ran through the streets of his neighborhood, that had been the last time he’d talked to the metalhead. 

His shower was cold, and not because he forgot to pay the water bill. He’d made it cold on purpose, maybe this was how he would stop having these dreams. 

Lately, they felt closer to nightmares. This one, in particular, had reminded him of how close they'd been, of how hard Y/N had taken it when Eddie had died. It had never been the right time to ask her, he kept telling himself, even after she left, and he stayed. 

'Never the right time' had been his downfall. 

Work had been the same, a mother asking for a children’s movie, a teenager who was obviously not old enough to rent an R-rated movie asking where they could find one, and an older couple asking for Gone With The Wind. The door rang for the fourth time that day, and he recited the same old boring greeting. “Welcome to Family Video, do you need-” He looked up, his breath catching in his throat. 

It couldn’t be. 

“It’s been a while, Harrington.” She laughed, and his heart fluttered. God, her laugh was still the most perfect sound he’d ever heard. “Are you doing alright?” 

“I-” He grinned. Was this real? It had to be- nope, he had officially losing it. He should have opened up to Robin when he had the chance.

“Hello?” She stepped forward, giggling. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’re spacing out on me. That’s my thing, you know. Not yours.” 

He laughed. “You look-” 

“Mama!” A little boy ran through the front door, clinging to Y/N’s leg. 

Steve’s head felt like it was spinning. 

“Hey, babe.” A man, around their age, walked up beside her, kissing her cheek gently. She grinned, leaning into his hold. “I tried to entertain him in the parking lot-” 

“It’s fine, honey.” She smiled, looking back at Steve with a sort of melancholy look. “This is Steve.” 

Steve waved, and the man waved back. Y/N’s cheeks were red, and in any normal situation, Steve would have laughed. She was cute when she was flustered. 

Right now, he couldn't find it in him to tease. He just wanted to curl up on the floor and die. “This is my husband Nick, and our son, Edmund.”

“No!” The little boy’s shrill yell livened up the place. 

Y/N laughed, looking down endearingly. “No, huh?” 

He nodded. “My name is Eddie.” 

Steve’s heart dropped, tears forming in his eyes as he stared at Y/N. Her husband laughed too, kneeling. “Kiddo, your nickname is Eddie. Your name is-” 

“Eddie!” 

‘Nick’ just laughed again, standing up. “There’s no convincing this one, I’m afraid.” 

Y/N stared back at Steve, trying to gauge his reaction. He finally spoke, finally said a full sentence for the first time since she’d walked in. “It’s a good name, Eddie.” 

She nodded, her eyes growing teary. “It is.” 

She was just as perfect as the last time he’d seen her. Radiant, happy, glowing, all things she was now. He knew, deep down, if he had told her that he loved her, she would have stayed, put her life on hold to be with him. And that - that was Steve’s worst nightmare. 

She had an actual chance, to leave, to make something of herself, and he wasn’t going to be the reason she never achieved it. He hadn’t, as he stared helplessly at her family, heart officially breaking when her husband set his hand on her growing stomach. “I get to name the next one.” 

Y/N shook her head, smacking his chest playfully. “I thought you said you liked Edmund.” 

“Kidding, babe.” He looked at Steve, smiling awkwardly. “Did you two know each other well?” 

Steve shook his head before he could think. “Just knew each other from school.” How do you tell the love of your life’s husband that you fought monsters together? He was almost sure Y/N hadn’t told him, and Steve didn’t blame her. He’d never told anyone either. “She was always the smart one, no one could keep up.” 

She wiped the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes, laughing. “I wouldn’t say that…” 

Nick, who was really a nice guy, Steve would later realize (even if he hated his guts at that moment) nodded. “You still are.” He looked at Steve again, laughing. “She runs circles around me. I wouldn’t have it any other way though.” He kissed Y/N on the cheek, staring at her the way Steve wished he could. “Keeps me young.” 

That had made Steve laugh. Damn it. Y/N had laughed too, rolling her eyes. “You're 29, Nick. Not exactly old here.” 

“Speak for yourself.” Nick clapped his hands, grabbing Edmund from his wife’s leg. “Have any cartoons for this one?” 

Steve nodded, leading them down the aisles toward the kid's section. “Aladdin’s a good one.” 

Eddie had lost energy as quickly as he’d gained it, Nick carrying him to the car with a haphazard ‘nice to meet you’ thrown in Steve’s general direction. 

Y/N stood in front of the counter, handing Steve the cash for the movie. Her tone was light as she spoke, almost like no time had passed. “He’s a good kid.” 

Steve smiled. “Takes after his mother.” 

“He-” Her voice sounded thick, and she stared at him with something Steve couldn’t quite place. “I hope you’re doing okay, really.” 

He nodded. That seemed to be all he could do now. “I am.” 

“Well…” She clapped her hands, walking back. “I’ll see you.” 

She pushed the door open, sparing one last look before disappearing from his sight.

Maybe, he thought to himself as his very soul began to die, it would have been better just to go mad. Go mad thinking about what could have been, rather than seeing her and realizing she had everything he'd hoped for.

Just not with him.

taglist: @kendallroydefender @beebeechaos

[keruimi]

Your Dream

Pairing: Obanai Iguro x reader

Warnings: Mention of Sexual Abuse, Death, Total Angst

Note: It has a similar plot with my other Obanai Oneshot but why do I feel like this hurts more? Anyways, I am back to writing Kny especially when it's angst. And yes, it's Obanai Iguro again, my favorite character. The only reason I wrote this is because of the Obamitsu Angst in my fyp like stop reminding me, it really hurts. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it because I don't want to suffer alone.

____________________________

It was a normal life I live, working as an average kakushi who is mostly assigned in the kitchen.

When an odd request from Oyakata-sama changes my routine. When he assigned me to deliver meals to the new pillar, the Snake Hashira, Obanai Iguro.

At the age of eighteen, I finally experienced the anger of a Hashira with just my presence.

Knowing I was silent my whole life, I never found the reason why the Hashira glared at me on our first meeting.

I can't even count how many meals have been ignored or thrown whenever I deliver it to him.

Feeding the Snake Hashira became part of my routine that I completely memorize the route of his manor since he doesn't want anyone to be with him.

"Y/n, please take care of Obanai Iguro's health for me"

Those are the words I hold onto as I tolerated the cold treatment of the Hashira.

I lost track of the times I stay outside the freezing cold when he doesn't want to open his door for me.

It became more torturing when my heart suddenly beat faster when he started treating me differently after a year.

When he finally started to accept the food I cooked and delivered to his manor. Even if he can't finish it, I am thankful that it wouldn't become a waste anymore.

I knew our simple interaction progressed more when he allowed me to come closer to his space. Even a job that I shouldn't be doing, I'm doing it for him.

Like cleaning his manor, grinding ink for him, and helping him sort different poetry he has written.

Those simple moments introduce me to the new side of him that I slowly fell in love with.

It made me want to try harder until the walls he built around him completely fall down.

Until he can finally open his heart to me.

But that friendship I tried to stabilize, brick by brick, became nothing when he met her in the Ubuyashiki mansion.

My effort is almost nothing with how easy she manages to make him soften to her.

And I started to look for the reasons why.

The friendship I tried so hard to build is ruined and I felt like I went back to the first time we met.

The cautious aura that made it difficult for me to connect to him.

And I knew those thoughts are really happening when the food I brought is left untouched.

"I have already eaten with Mitsuri"

It was the sentence I kept hearing but I didn't stop doing my duty of making his food for him.

Because I learned to love taking care of him.

Those tasty delicacies I used to love cooking, change when I noticed he was disgusted just by the smell of it.

I adjusted so many things that I completely forgot what I really love.

Just to serve him right.

I prevent the cough that is threatening to leave my mouth as I grind ink for the Hashira I am serving.

As he wrote the letter he always sent to her.

It was breaking me. But I have no right to feel anything for him.

I already knew ever since, that a high-ranking warrior like him is not meant to love me.

But the weak side of me silently yearn that he can return it.

But seeing how in love he is with another woman. I knew I never had a place in his heart.

But just a mere presence that accompanies him in the garden.

I was just a shadow he would never notice. A person that serves him, and he would not change his perspective on me.

I was beside him so I could serve him, not to love him.

I wipe the single tear and escape my eyes before he notices as I force my body to move according to what he wishes.

While he remained clueless of my emotion that I tried so hard to get rid of.

The emotion that broke my heart when I saw the ring in his room while I was cleaning.

I could never look at the mirror just to see how my eyes portrayed the pain I felt when I saw it.

"Obanai-san really liked Mitsuri, don't you?" I mustered up the courage to speak my thoughts with a slight teasing tone as my back faced him.

I bit my lip to stop the sob that is threatening to be heard as I heard shuffling behind me.

"Obanai-san must treat Mitsuri-san right. Marriage is a dream for every woman. Especially when they will have a good man to love" I turned to him with a smile as I slowly opened my eyes and saw how soft his eyes turned because of embarrassment.

I don't know his past. I don't know what he loves.

I don't know Obanai Iguro.

But I know he has a hard time trusting others.

"I hope you both live a happy life" I managed to let out but it came out as a whisper as I took my things and left the room.

I froze the moment I left his manor as the tears I managed to subside finally escaped my eyes as I found myself crying on the way back to the village I live in.

I knew it was coming but my heart won't stop aching. My eyes can't stop crying. My mouth can't stop sobbing.

I really love him.

But he is not mine.

~•°•~

I lost track of the years when the female kakushi started to serve me.

The only woman I allow to enter my manor with the excuse of serving me.

Because I thought of changing myself even a little no matter how much I feel fear or disgusted by a female approaching me.

Because she gave effort to providing me with the most comfortable thing I needed. Especially during my meal time.

Starting with a simple window being opened, creating less flavorful food that I can tolerate.

I knew she was adjusting for me so I let her presence in my everyday life. Until that became like a friendship I was thankful for.

I can talk to someone about things without including battles.

I love her like a family.

That explained how my body felt frozen when I heard the news of what happened to her on the way to my manor.

The news of her being taken advantage of by a man who manages to memorize her route to my manor due to her everyday routine of walking her way there.

The anger I felt was unexplainable that I can find myself hurting a fellow human.

I knew humans can be evil, but I didn't know I could hate them more than I hate demons.

But I thought I made a mistake too.

If I just let her stay in my manor so she wouldn't exert too much energy just for my food, I could protect her better.

I know I'm slowly losing control when my self-restraint almost fell apart when I visited her quarters and I found her silently sitting at the corner of her room, hugging her knees.

As the spark in her eyes completely vanishes.

"She refused to eat nor let another woman near her. When the others approach her, she flinches. We don't know how to approach her anymore" the Kakushi who led me to her room stuttered out as I felt my hand grip the wooden door in anger.

Yet my eyes badly wanted to cry for her.

"Shinobu tried to check on her but she started to cry whether she was near. We just confirm the situation when the evidence of the sexual abuse was present in her body when we found her unconscious in the forest"

"Stop talking" I snap at him who immediately keeps his mouth shut as my snake hiss at him who scurried away.

"Y/n, it's me" I knocked on the door even though it was already open to make her aware of my presence in the room.

I don't know how I control my voice who I thought will be expressed in a trembled tone.

I am a man.

That is the first thought that came to my mind that made me decide to sit at the floor near the door.

"Obanai Iguro, you know me, right?" I spoke again and she kept her silence making my hands tighten its hold on my pants.

I'm not used to this side of her.

"Are you scared of me?" I asked slowly as silence occupied the entire room before she shook her head a little.

"May I come closer?"

With that question, I notice how her hands tighten on the blanket surrounding her making me release a shaky breath.

I never knew I was willing to hurt a fellow human just for her.

It made me want to make the man suffer badly. Worse than what he did to her.

"I'm sorry" I was left speechless when those were left on her lips and I immediately shook my head.

"Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong. It was them that wronged you" I am not good at words but I wanted to completely express my concern and pain for her.

I badly wanted to avenge her.

"It was me who should apologize because I was not there for you"

"I am not your responsibility..." She whispered and I shook my head once again, wishing for her to look at me even once so she can see how badly I am hurt for what she has experience.

How desperate I am to show she was not alone during this time.

"You are. Because you are important to me" I felt tears in my eyes as Kaburamaru slithered his way to her and slowly circled around her shoulder in a protective manner.

"I am tainted..."

"You're not" I firmly stated. "I am the tainted one between the two of us" those words quickly left my lips without any hesitations and she finally had the courage to look in my direction.

"So don't look at yourself that way. For me, you are still the same Y/n that accompanied me" I stuttered out as I tried to stabilize my breathing.

"I will seek justice for you. That's a promise"

I saw how a tear left her eyes as she looked outside the window. Removing her gaze on me.

"In our generation, marriage is every woman's dreams. Is a symbol of acceptance. Is where you will really feel you are loved and chosen by someone" she whispered.

"But in order to be chosen, you need to be pure, compliant, and well-mannered. That's what it takes to be a good wife" she stated as Kaburamaru nuzzled his head on her cheek when he noticed her difficulty in breathing.

I badly want to lend her my shoulder to lean on, an advice to make her mind clear. But in this situation, we both knew she just needed an ear to listen to her.

Someone to comfort her with just presence.

"But if you don't meet those requirements, you will be shunned by society. You will lose the qualification that a wife has."

"Right now, I will not be the wife of someone. I will not be married to a man I will dedicate my life to. Because I don't have my purity that only my husband should have." She whispered.

It was a painful word to state out loud. But right now, I can't read her.

Because she completely closed off her emotions.

"I don't fit the standard that a wife should have." She whispered as she buried herself in her blanket that hid herself from me.

"And it hurted so badly"

I closed my eyes when she spoke those words.

And I hate myself because I can't do anything for her but just torture her attacker.

"What else is your dream other than marriage?" I ask her as she closes her eyes to rest it for a little while.

"I want to meet the one that is willing to spend their entire life with me" it was a hopeful wish.

Silence occupy the room and I thought she fall asleep until she whispered the words I never expected to hear from her.

"I love you..." It was barely heard but I knew it was the words she hide for so long.

That made it known to me that I could grant that dream to her.

But I decide to give her the time she needs to heal from that painful experience.

She needs to heal.

Those are the thoughts I could only think of as I laid her down in her bed in a more comfortable position when I noticed she had finally fallen asleep.

But I never expected that it would be the last time I would see her with her eyes open.

Because when I came back the next day, the news of her death was the one that greeted me.

It was a nocturnal death because her heart failed during her sleep.

It finally felt like my whole world collapsed and my mind completely shut down.

If it weren't for Sanemi being beside me, I would have completely fallen on the floor as I kneel in front of her room.

It hurts.

I wanted it to stop.

But I know that nothing could make her happy anymore.

Because that nightmare would continue living within her for the rest of her life.

I never manage to cherish her smiles more. I only shrugged the moments I have with her because I thought we would stay that way.

That I never knew I was running out of time.

It took every cell in my body to approach her cold body that is covered with white cloth as I kneeled beside her.

I silently slid the ring that she found on my mansion in her finger as tears continued escaping from my eyes as Sanemi just stood behind me.

I lost someone who made me feel like I have the family I never have.

In this life, we were parted to heal.

But I will make sure that her wish will be granted.

"In this life" I started to whisper as my lips lean on her fingers where the ring stays.

"As God as my witness, I promise to take you as my bride. Give myself as your other half" I keep mumbling as I squeeze her cold hand as tears continue to fall from my eyes.

"That even death can never separate us. Because in our next life, I'll make sure, that I will utter this words to you again"

And in that life, you will be alive to hear it

[tallykale]

episode 19

as you can probably tell, i've thought a lot about what post-canon one would look like in my vision... i've said before that i have issues with straightforward fix-its, and i do genuinely love the tragic open-ended conclusion that the series has, but i... am not immune to playing with characters like dolls LOL

here's some writeups about where everyone is at mentally in these pictures. please please please PLEEEASE feel free to ask me more about this cuz i love talking about my beautiful mind palace

charlotte: somehow the most optimistic person in here, mostly out of necessity. when she died, she saw parker leading her out of a cave as her waiting room and was about to take his hand when airy respawned her, so she has a brief moment of bonding with bryce when he talks about the waiting room and seeing stella. with the knowledge that there is potentially a way to get out (bryce and liam being the proof) and the fear of rotting away again she is by far the most actively motivated to help liam figure out the computer. a lot of her days are spent talking to liam over the mic and writing out the code in the dirt so she can try to understand it. she still has to push against her natural misanthropy (and often shouts at liam or bryce for being fucking stupid and useless) but both working on the code and helping amelia give her something concrete to focus on outside herself. she wants to get home so she can make amends with her friends. charlotte is scared of dying! she's really genuinely horribly scared of dying and has awful vivid nightmares about rotting away. she often pushes amelia into talking about her life which causes some tension, but it's because she really hates seeing amelia lose herself like that - a metaphorical rotting away of the self.

subway seat & atom: not on the same level of pure existential depression as the batch 1 contestants, but they both feel the hopeless mood pretty harshly regardless. subway feels very lonely as the only hidden object still 'awake', and likes to carry whippy creamy around rather than just leave him sitting on the ground constantly. tray is too big and unwieldy for him to do that with, but he 'hangs out' with her anyway, talking to her and whippy creamy in the hopes that it'll get them to want to wake up again. atom doesn't talk much, but he still carries his piece of grass. he's definitely the person who's the least affected by the prospect of being stuck on the plane forever, since he… doesn't really perceive existence in the same way as everyone else? he's an atom. but his time in the competition definitely made him view everyone else as friends, and he feels even more powerless than usual in the face of this incomprehensibly difficult problem.

amelia: falls into total hopelessness when bryce rejoins, basically seeing it as the final sign that they're never going home. still calls everyone their competition names (she actually gets into a big fight with bryce about it lol). she gets really clingy and dependent on bryce when he first comes back but it crashes and burns pretty quickly when, during an argument, bryce tells her how much he wishes he could just go back and never have let liam in and forgot about everything… which really sucks for amelia to hear, given that she's part of that everything. after that, with bryce isolating himself, she's kind of reliant on charlotte to keep her going. she blames liam for airy dying and secretly kind of thinks he killed him but just isn't telling them… she also doesn't really believe there's any way of getting out and is just kind of waiting around to die of, like, old age i guess. after how long she's been here, amelia is convinced that she has nothing to even go back to and frequently forgets details about her life. regularly cries and hates being alone. the shift markings on the side of the water tub have changed from being a way to keep track of time and stay sane to a horrible reminder of how long they've been here and how much longer of an eternity they have before them.

bryce: hates himself and liam and airy and the plane and his entire stupid fucking life. bryce is really, really fucking pissed off at liam for losing the notes and letting texty die and every other mistake he's made, and isn't shy about telling him that. as well as being angry, he's also incredibly miserable, because he was finally starting to turn his life around (he quit drinking after the plane) and now it's all for nothing - and even worse, those 7 months he spent getting better were 7 months he did nothing to help the rest of them, especially amelia. he's horribly guilty about that, and that he didn't tell amelia about the fake votes before he was eliminated… but finds it easier to just let liam take the heat for that one at first. after he fights with amelia about it he becomes a bit of a hermit, hanging out by himself next to the plug, and never responds when liam tries to talk. contemplates suicide regularly but pretty much the only option is drowning himself, and the idea of that still scares him more than staying like this forever. would kill for a beer.

liam: tortured by horrible guilt every day over a million different things. these include getting bryce pulled back into this (plus delayed guilt over getting him for real killed), letting texty die and not saying anything about the charger, not telling amelia that everything was fake, knowing that charlotte is going to die if he doesn't get really smart really fast… he's frequently gripped by fits of rage where he almost smashes the computer and has to hobble around outside with the axe for a while to blow off steam. he has really bad nightmares and dissociative episodes, made worse by the isolation and spending hours in a dark cave. liam really wants to fix things with everyone but genuinely has no idea how to start that conversation. he assumes airy killed himself (and views it as an unforgiveably cowardly move) and directs a lot of resentment towards him. he has a lot of things he wants to say, especially to bryce, but the fact that he cant talk to anybody one on one makes things difficult. spends a lot of time just reading through the code, too afraid to actually make any changes in case everyone explodes, but talking it through with charlotte at least makes him feel like he's doing something. more than he would like to admit, liam catches himself staring at the plane as if it's a simulation or a livestream.